


It's Not The End of the World, Dear

by hearts_0f_kyber (rw_eaden)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Angel Rey (Star Wars), Armageddon, Breaking Up & Making Up, Demon Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Finn Palpatine, Florist Rey (Star Wars), Footnotes, Homophobia, Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Other, Poker Metaphors, Racism, Temporary Character Death, Undercover Missions, betcha weren't expecting that tag huh?, discussion of suicide, i say fusion but this is three canons and two fandoms in a blender on high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-11-24 07:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/hearts_0f_kyber
Summary: It's Armageddon; the players are set, the antichrist has been born, and end of all things is in motion. At least, that's The Plan. It might not come to pass if one grumpy angel and her sort-of-business rival, mostly-enemy, occasionally begrudgingly friendly demon compatriot have anything to say about it. If they want to continue living in a world with fast cars and grilled cheese and green things they're going to need to work together, as loath as they are to do it.As the apocalypse draws nearer and the stakes drive higher, they may just realize they've got more to lose than they originally thought. Will they pull together, or will their loyalties drive them apart? Can they save the world or was it all doomed from the start?The Nice and Somewhat Accurate Good Omens AU of rw, Witch





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So first off, just a heads up, there are a few things to be aware of when reading this fic.  
First, this is a Good Omens au but as I'm not trying to reinvent the wheel here, it's been boiled down and changed quite a bit. It has elements of the source material, but it's in no way trying to be the exact same thing, which should be fun. If you know the plot of the show and/or the book the basic beats are the same so if you're okay with what happens there you should be okay with what I do here.  
Second, the tags should be in order, but as characters do all kinds of wild things sometimes I might be missing something. If I need to add more I'll try to add them a chapter ahead, but please keep a lookout.  
Lastly, my intent is never to hurt or offend but there are some... things in this fic you should be aware of. It's blasphemous, obviously, so if that bothers you I wouldn't read this. Also, Finn is the antichrist (because I love Finn) and if that bothers you you probably shouldn't read this. Ben and Rey are both nonbinary ('cause angels don't have sexes or genders unless they want to) which kinda sorta is a plot point but also isn't. Just be aware of it.
> 
> With footnotes, the actual length of the fic comes out to ~44,400 words.
> 
> Be sure to check out the footnotes! I've been told they're funny :)  
Special thanks to Tori, my lovely beta.  
If you like music, check out the spotify playlist for this fic! [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6GFqzRGtPbOy4oPfICgeWo)

It’s an okay day. Well, not really, if Rey’s honest. It started out nice, but it’s shaping up to be one of the worst days in the history of days. Though, that’s not a tough feat, as there have only been about seven of them so far. 

“Well that went down like a lead balloon,” the creature next to her says. Creature, because even though it looks like a snake, it’s surely not. She knows for a fact that the only two snakes in Eden are off securing the existence of further snakes. The thing sitting next to her is a demon. 

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon,” the thing says again. 

“Heard you the first time,” Rey says, shielding her eyes as she watches Adam and Eve make the trek through burning sand, the gathering clouds making visibility poor. 

“What’s got you so tetchy?” The demon asks. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s that some bastard demon decided to fuck the world up already.” 

“Thank you,” hisses the demon. 

“Begone, serpent, or I’ll be forced to end you,” Rey says. 

“End me! That’s a little harsh.” 

“You ruined everything. You’re lucky I’m giving you the chance to flee you miserable little worm.” 

The snake-demon makes an undignified sound somewhere between a scoff and a hiss. “You must be one of God’s favorites, then. You obviously take after Her, what with the righteous overreaction.” 

“Overreaction?!” 

“Oh, yes, overreaction. It’s their first offense and all-” it tips its snakey head towards the figures fading in the distance, “you can’t really expect to put a big apple tree in the middle of a garden and expect them not to eat from it.” 

“There was plenty of other fruit.”

“Yeah, so why was that one there in the first place? She could’ve put it anywhere. Couple miles to the left would’ve done it. But no. She put it right in the middle like a big flashing sign that says ‘Please Come Eat Me’.” 

“I’m giving you five more seconds, beast,” Rey says. 

“Oh, do it then. Turn me into a holy shish kabob.” 

Rey pats her hip, realizing a second too late that she doesn’t have her sword anymore. “I - I will. If you don’t shut up.” 

The demon slithers around her feet, peeking up at the empty sheath at her hip. “Did you really lose it? Already?” 

“None of your damn business,” Rey says. 

“Oh man, you are so fired,” laughs the demon. 

Rey sends the serpent falling, twisting aimlessly through the air with a swift kick off the wall. “There,” she says to herself as the first rain starts to fall, staining the stone under her feet a dark grey. “Good riddance.” 

Now she’ll never have to deal with that obnoxious demon ever again. 

* * *

Rey is fussing with her azaleas when the phone rings. It’s half past nine, so whoever’s calling must be confused about the normal operating hours of a flower shop. Whatever flower emergency they think they have, well, Tesco is always open. She ignores it and continues to pet the pink trumpet petals of her latest specimen.

The phone rings twice more before she finally gives in. There’s only one person who’d call at this time of night, this insistently. 

“What?” She barks into the phone. 

“Rey,” Ben’s dark voice echoes over the line, “we have a problem.” 

“I’ll say. You spend decades putzing around, I don’t hear a peep from you, and you call me at almost ten on a Tuesday? There better be a problem or I’ll make sure there is.” 

“It’s Armageddon,” he says. 

Rey nearly drops the receiver. “Don’t play with me, Ben.” 

“Would I lie about something like thisss?” Ben hisses. 

“You might. You are a lying snake, after all.” 

“Just meet me at the usual rendezvous. I’ll explain later. They’re probably still watching.” 

Rey doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s incredibly stupid to call if his bosses are still in fact watching. “It’s ten o’clock at night!” She says instead. “The park is closed.” 

“Fine,” Ben grumbles. “I’ll meet you at the shop then.” He does not give Rey a chance to protest before the line goes dead. 

“Rude,” Rey mutters to herself. 

She does not dwell on it. Instead, she changes out of her smock, washes the dirt off her face, and fixes her hair the manual way before making her way back to the section of the freezer she reserves for alcohol. Lord knows she needs it if Ben’s stopping by.Or, rather, the Lord doesn’t know[1] , and that’s a good thing. 6,000 years of shakey acquaintance with the demon and she still hasn’t managed to get through an evening with him without numbing the urge to punch him in the neck. Which, really ought to be a concern. Not the potential alcoholic tendencies, but the fact that she’s comfortable getting inebriated in front of the enemy. If he were interested, he could easily discorporate her, though at this point she’s fairly certain he won’t.[2] Still, alcohol was the only way he was tolerable, and she wasn’t about to have this conversation when she’d rather throttle him. 

* * *

When it comes to matters like the end of the world, it’s important to understand a small infinity of other things, but as a general rule, the beginning is usually a good place to start.The beginning of the world occurred over a period of seven days some six thousand years ago [3] when God decided to have a go at creating creatures that could walk and talk and think the way She did but without the ability to speak their own ideas into being as She could. No, they had to do it the messy way, with mud at first, then eventually ink, and later pixels. These were, of course, just ideas, or representations of ideas as some French shit once asserted with a cheeky painting of a pipe. In order to create life, most of them had to undergo the messy ordeal of being known and Being Known before they were able to hold in their hands something as pure and innocent as a new life. 

And, unfortunately, like their original creator, some humans were woefully unprepared for the responsibility of a new life. Rather than leaving their young to the literal lions, however, humans had developed the concept of adoption, leaving those who could not have their own or chose not to have their own, the option to care for a child. 

Ahsoka Tano is one such human. An adopted child herself, she’s never seen any reason to go out of her way to get pregnant and have a child. The fact that she’s a lesbian and none of her partners have been able to get her pregnant is also a factor in this decision, but a minor one, all things considered. Regardless, after years of searching for an adoption agency and that would adopt to a single woman and months of waiting for her own child to be born, Ahsoka barely managed to get properly dressed before she was out the door that warm night in August. 

Of course, it had hardly mattered as she was made to sit around and wait in a suspiciously vacant convent for nearly an hour as the lawyer drew up her paperwork. Or, presumably it was a convent. It hade the shape of one but it was suspiciously missing crosses and nuns. In fact, the only religious art she’d seen upon walking it was a vaguely sexual statue of two angels… er… wrestling? 

“This is legal right?” Ahsoka asks the dire man filling out forms at a snail’s pace. “I’m not adopting someone else’s stolen baby, am I?” 

The lawyer, a man named Canaday, eyes her with a scowl. “The paperwork is in order,” he says. “You will have your baby with no complications.” 

“But, what if, say, a few years down the road the birth mother -” 

“It is a closed adoption. As far as you’re concerned, there is no birth mother.” 

Ahsoka gulps but her usual instinct to call the police quickly and quietly fades. Would a lawyer really risk their license and jail time for an adoption? Probably not. He’s probably just tired. It is late at night after all. It must just be the nerves of motherhood niggling at the back of her mind. There’s nothing suspicious about this whole affair. 

Canady slips the paperwork across the table and Ahsoka signs, unbothered by details. When she looks up again, a lady in black is handing her her new baby boy. 

“What should I call him?” She asks. Her son wriggles in her arms. “You know, it’s funny, I’ve thought so much about having a baby of my own but I never thought about names. Maybe I should name him after my dad?” She looks down at the tiny babe. “But you don’t look like an Anakin, do you?” 

Canady rolls his eyes, folding the paperwork into his suit jacket. “I don’t know and I don't care. Name him Winston Churchil for all it matters.” 

Ahsoka wrinkles her nose. “No, that won’t work. Maybe I should call you Sam? Or Skyler? Or maybe John?” 

The baby yawns. Ahsoka can’t help but smile down as his tiny nose wrinkles. “Or maybe Finn? Finn Tano has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” 

“Yes, fine, whatever,” says Canady. They’re both up and walking now, and Ahsoka is out the double doors before she can comment further. 

A strange sort of calm settles over herself and the baby as she straps him in his carseat and makes the journey home. Perhaps it’s the excitement of being a new mother, or perhaps it’s something far less benign, but the drive home doesn’t register in her mind, nor do the small details, like the lack of birth certificate or wristband on her baby’s wrist. A small little tingle does attempt to assert itself in her mind - just a feeling, really, that something isn’t quite right - but it’s dismissed as easily as it materializes. 

Obviously, it’s nothing. Definitely just jitters. 

* * *

“That’sss not the point,” Ben hisses, interrupting himself with a hiccup, “it’ss not.” 

“What’s the point, then?” Rey asks. Even though he speeds, it took quite a while for Ben to get to London and Rey is far ahead of him in alcohol consumption. He is, however, making a valiant effort to catch up. 

“Point is, this is a shhhitty idea,” he says, knocking back the rest of his Scotch and making a clumsy grab at the rest of the bottle which is really sitting too close to Rey’s computer for comfort. 

They’re in the back office, where Rey keeps records and catalogues of the plants she buys and the odd one or two she manages to part with. It’s far too small for any sensible person to get sloshed in, but Rey isn’t really a person and her reasonability is debatable. Still. She takes the stiff dining chair she’d gotten from… somewhere, while Ben rolls around the office on the desk chair. 

“Is not,” Rey says. “It’ll be paradise when ‘s all over. Isn’t that nice?” 

Ben clicks his tongue. 

“‘Sides, I thought you were all for -” she rolls her wrist, hoping to materialize the word, “end of the world,” she finally settles on. 

“Theoretically,” Ben says. “It’d be nice to get out of the basement.” 

“You haven’t been ta Hell in decades.” 

Ben leans far enough back in the rolling chair that the plastic creaks precariously. “Yeah,” he sighs, “And now ‘s going to wind up here, ‘nstead.” 

“Assuming you win.” 

“Oh, you think you will?” 

“‘F course! That’s how itgoes. Paradise, remember?” 

“If you live that long. There’sssa war first, right?” 

“Imma soldier. I can survive,” she says. 

Ben scoffs, sputtering the alcohol still on his lips. “Right. You’re going to run them through with your holy sword, aren’t you? By the way, you ever find that again or ‘s it still lossst?” 

“I didn’t lose it. You know damn well what happened to it.” 

“You gave it away ‘cause a pregnant lady was having a bad day,” Ben says with a condescending pout. 

“There were lions! And God knowswhatelse!”

“God knows,” Ben snorts. “Sure She does.” 

“She never mentioned it, other’n the once,” Rey says, suddenly more interested in her drink than she had been before. Has she really gone through the whole glass already? She just poured this, didn’t she? 

“Lots of pregnant people now,” Ben says. “Will be for the rest of time, too. Until there’s no more. Time, that is. And pregnant people, I guess.” 

Rey’s stomach churns. When’s the last time she’s eaten? Tuesday, maybe. Is it still Tuesday? She really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. Makes her sicker. Can’t be what Ben’s said. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she whispers to her glass. 

“Pregnant people, babies, little schoolgirls in pigtails. There’ll going to burn.”

“Their souls will be - the righteous and the ‘nnocent. They’ll be fine,” says Rey. 

“But they’re still about to die.” 

“It’s… unfortunate.” 

“And all the plants and animals, too. Humans, I understand. They do a good enough job pissing off God. Not like it’s hard. But llamas.” 

“Llamas?” 

“Wha’s God got against llamas?” 

“‘S not personal, Ben.” 

Ben shoots up out of his chair. “The Heaven does a llama care if it’s personal? One minute they’re doin' - llama things, ‘n’ the next? Raining halibut! Plagues of locussts! Right on their heads!”

Rey starts to speak again, but Ben interrupts her. “And the habibut falling from the sky! And e’rerything else! The whole planet -” his voice goes low, almost a whisper, “birds, and fish, and poplar trees, wiped out so Heaven and re-open old wounds.” 

“It’s - “

“Bullshit, is what it is. An’ I’m not dying for it.” 

“You won’t die,” Rey says, “you’re better ‘an that.” 

“It’s either you or me, sweetheart. You win, they run me a nice cold holy water bath. I win, you get the furnace. Probably both of us, if there’s any mercy anywhere.” 

Rey bites her lip, considering. Armageddon has always been presented in abstracts. It was a war, of course, but it had been so long since the last one and while it wasn’t  _ easy _ to forget, she hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of it. She’d mostly been on Earth, watching as the angels she once knew dropped from the sky like falling stars. Falling stars that screamed. She’d been told heaven would win, and with that things would be better. She hadn’t stopped to think that no more demons meant… well… no more demons. Ben was the enemy, certainly, but after 6,000 years, well, she didn’t want to see him killed. 

“What are we supposed to do about it?” Rey asks. “It’s not like we can stop the apocalypse. The antichrist’s been born.” 

Ben’s head twists around so fast he should’ve snapped his neck. “Well, why not?” 

Rey snorts, loud and inelegant. “Really? You and I against Heaven and Hell? God and Satan? You’re mad.” 

“Think about if for a sec: the antichrist has been born, but he’s just a baby. He’s human, mostly. Raised by humans. So who says he’s gotta be anything like his father? Satan won’t be around. He could just be normal. And then what? If he’s never  _ actually _ the antichrist -”

“You’re talking nonsense, Ben. Of course he’s the antichrist. Whatelse is he gonna be? A duck?” 

“He’s a baby. Raised by people.” 

“You’ve said that already.” 

“Way I sssee it, is it’s the raising that matters. Good and bad afluences. Influences. And they want me to watch ‘em, steer him down the left-handed path, you see. But if some clever angel were to make it her business to thwart me -” 

“I can’t interfere with the plans of the Almighty,” Rey says, grasping at straws. It might be that she’s slightly drunk, but he’s talking far too much sense for his own good. 

“No, but you are supposed to interfere with demonic plans, aren’t you? Are you really about to let me go unchecked? Just going to give up, just like that?” 

“I’m not giving up!” Rey snaps. 

“Well then, there’s really no choice is there? And if you succeed, there’s no screaming and gnashing of teeth, right?” 

“Well, when you put it like that -” Rey says, looking out at the slightly open office door. Outside, the rest of London sleeps but the rest of the world is moving. People in Bejin are waking up, making breakfast, kissing their wives on the cheek. Women in India are washing their laundry in the Ganges. Cats are chasing mice in Cairo. Baby birds are learning to fly in Paraguay. It really would be a shame to see the whole thing burn, especially if she can actually do something to prevent it. 

“It’s almost my duty, to make sure the world keeps spinning. They can’t actually get mad at me for trying to stop evil, can they?” 

“Exactly,” Ben says, pounding his fist on the desk. “Exactly!” 

Rey extends a hand, “so we’re in agreement, then. We’ll be…” 

“Godparents,” Ben says, closing his hand over hers, giving a tight, near bone-breaking squeeze.

“Godparents,” she mutters, squeezing back. “Why the hell not?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1She does. [return to text]  
2 Around 3000 BC they came to the agreement that killing each other on sight wasn’t a great idea as paper had just been invented and with it paperwork, and neither of them thought the headache of having to fill it out to request a new body was worth it.[return to text]  
3 And change but really, who’s counting? [return to text]  
The author is over on tumblr [here](https://rosemoonweaver.tumblr.com/) .


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about Ben and Rey being nonbinary? Yeah, Ben's lady-shaped in this whole chapter. (Because Nanny Crowley? Hot. I'm queer and thirsty, sue me.) 
> 
> Just a note, this work is longer than the word count leads on. The footnotes aren't counted but they add a non-insignificant amount to the word total. I'll edit that in the notes of the first chapter when I know how long the whole thing actually is. Also, let me know if the footnotes are working or not. They should be but I'm not sure.

It’s been said that God doesn’t play dice with the universe. This is, technically, true. In order to play a game like dice, one must have the objective of winning and one must usually play against someone else. God is not a dice player. Instead, God is more like a struggling writer, beating Her head repeatedly against the monitor in between bouts of sobbing, staring into Her coffee like it has some kind of answer, scrolling through the celestial equivalent of Twitter, and, occasionally, actually writing. 

To say that there is no Divine Plan for the universe is laughable, but to say it always works out as intended is equally asinine. As any writer worth their salt can tell you, there’s no such thing as a story that goes perfectly according to plan. Sometimes, characters get their own ideas. 

Take, for example, the events of the night six months prior, when a certain demon hand-delivered the antichrist to a convent of Satanic nuns, eagerly awaiting the birth of their master’s child. One such nun, a sister born with the name Kanata, decided upon seeing the docile child in her arms, that the end of the world was a Bad Thing Actually, and took it upon herself to swap and then re-swap the children under her supervision. Normally, such an outline breaking action would be swiftly deleted, the writer would take a break and watch a few mind-numbing hours of whatever baking competition was on while eating far too many cheese puffs, and try again in the morning. 

God, however, does not believe in the backspace key,[4] and Kanata’s decision was allowed to stand. 

So, Ms. Kanata delivered the child she knew to be the antichrist to the slightly less than human leason she’d arranged to adopt the regular, human child out to, washed her hands of the whole mess, and opened a bar in Soho. 

The parents of the would-be antichrist who wasn’t actually the antichrist happened to be one Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndulla, American ambassador and wife who may or may not have been involved in a small but far-reaching band of activists who may or may not have been at least partially responsible for the public release of records that implicated several American Senators in war profiteering.[5] These days, the ambassador and his wife stick to more legal methods of governmental reform, which has led both of them to a life in London, where their impediment of corruption remains impeded, despite their efforts. 

While Kanan and Hera are the picture of humanitarian efforts, both politically and personally, the two of them do not have much time to spare for child-rearing. This is by design, of course. What good would it do to raise the antichrist in a normal, functional, quiet family? They’ll need assistance. Which is where Ben comes in. 

“Oh good, God,” Rey says the first time she sees Ben since their parting on the morning of the new antichrist raising agreement. 

Ben’s smile is much too sharp to be anything remotely friendly. “Dressing the part.” 

“I thought the part was nanny, not fetish enthusiast.” 

She - and it is she now, her aura radiating the kind of feminine energy found in spiders that eat their mates after sex - scoffs. “This isn’t fetish. This is doubty.” 

Rey takes her in, the whole black wool suit from head to toe, high collar and dark glasses, long hair pulled back into a serious bun. It’s not salacious per se, but the way she holds herself, the sour curl of her lips, well... 

“You look like you advertise vague and nondescript services in illicit magazines,” Rey says. 

She opens and shuts her mouth a few times, making an awkward squeaking noise. “Shush,” she finally says. 

Rey laughs. 

“At least I don’t look like I fell off the turnip truck thi’smorning.” 

“Hey! Rude!” 

For her disguise, Rey had chosen a more humble, salt-of-the-earth approach. She’ll be posing as the gardener, a Russian immigrant named Anja, who is be the youngest of seven, hoping to make enough money to send back home to her sick mother. 

“At least mine has character and thought involved,” she says, looking down at her stained overalls. 

“Mine has character, too,” Ben says. 

“BDSM Mary Poppins, maybe,” Rey mutters. 

“Hush or I’ll bend you over my knee,” Ben says. 

And that - no, Rey’s not going to go there. 

“I’d like to see you try, serpent.” 

She lowers her glasses so Rey is forced to look into her slitted pupils. “Watch yourself, little angel.” 

Rey’s about to respond, likely with an ill-thought-out challenge, when the cab outside bleats its horn. 

“My ride,” Ben says. “See you at work.” The fabric of her skirt whisks against her hose as she walks out the door. 

Rey takes a breath, steading herself before setting to work in making sure her plants will survive while she’s gone. She’s not sure how often she’ll be able to head back to the shop so she’s built a series of elaborate pulleys and levers to ensure they more delicate varieties will be cared for while she’s gone. She’d had quite a bit of trouble getting the right pressure on the contraptions she’d hooked from the office fridge’s ice maker to the orchids, but the fifteenth time was the charm. The more hardy plants can get by with a water bottle siphon, but the more delicate - the orchids and roses and African daisies - those will be on her mind for quite a while. 

It had taken years to get her own private garden set up just right, but it would never be the same as the one she’d called one, however briefly, all those years ago. She didn’t know at the time how much it would break her to leave it, or how it would ache to see a car park in its place millennia later. If she had maybe she would’ve pled with the Almighty for a little bit of mercy on behalf of Adam and Eve. How were they supposed to know what they’d done was bad? They literally didn’t know what bad was! It’s a little unfair for such harsh punishment when you can’t even understand you’ve done wrong, isn’t it? If She really wanted to punish someone, it should’ve been Ben. 

But no, Rey can’t think that way. That way leads to questions that should not be asked: questions whose answers are not hers to know. Better to just leave it alone. 

Rey sends one final goodbye to her plants, flicks her wrist to draw her suitcase to her, and locks up. 

* * *

If anyone were to ask, which they rarely do, Ben would say that children are the perfect humans because they’re so often unburdened by the rules and restraints adults put upon themselves. She would tell you that their penchant for cruelty and selfishness makes them perfect, but anyone who spent more than a few minutes around her and a child at the same time would quickly notice this is an exaggeration at best. Children, Ben knows, are a clean slate. It’s what you tell them and how you treat them that makes them into the people they’ll become. 

So, it stands to reason, of course, that if you want to raise a child to be neutral, they should be exposed to both good and bad points of view. It all cancels itself out, after all. And Ben would know all about the infuriating canceling out powers of good and bad. She’s spent thousands of years accomplishing a big net-zero for Hell purely because Rey has to stick her nose in and do good at the same time. Because Rey is good, occasional unholy wrath notwithstanding. It’s a big part of the reason Ben had considered even trying to get Rey to work with her on this whole stopping the End Times business. 

The other reason? Well. Let’s not get into that right now. 

Rey’s in the rose garden, cooing at the flowers. She’s always been good with living things, always thriving with the life around her. Ben, well, even the infernal beasts hate her it seems.[6] The cooing, as sickeningly sweet as it is, is thankfully tempered by the unrepentant disaster that is her disguise. The overalls are too baggy on her, and the sunspots dotting her skin really do her no favors. And that’s of course not even accounting for the split ends she’s given herself. 

“Good morning!” Rey shouts, overly friendly even for her. 

Jacen, who’s been toddling along, pudgy fingers wrapped around Ben’s thumb, waves and shouts back: “hi!” 

“Don’t talk to strangers, dear,” Ben says, even as she leads them closer to the garden. 

Jacen nods but it’s clear he doesn’t get it because by the time they’re at the hedges he’s let go of Ben and races towards Rey as fast as his chubby legs will carry him. It’s not like Ben can really blame him, though. Rey glows, even on her worst days. It’s probably something to do with that angelic charisma that makes humans and animals alike flock to her, chasing her Divine light. Not demons though. Demons recoil from it. [7]

Ben parks herself on the bench under a shade tree, watching as Rey and Jacen get acquainted. Or more accurately, reacquainted. Ben’s made sure to wheel his pram out when it was warm enough, but the kid likely doesn’t remember her. Humans don’t really form lasting memories until they’re older. Ben’s not sure when exactly, but she’s fairly sure it’s around seven or so. 

“No, you mustn’t say words like that. It’s mean,” she catches Rey say. 

Ben chuckles to herself. The alphabet game they’ve been playing is already starting to pay off, then. 

“I sorry,” says Jacen. Well, at least Ben knows what she needs to work on next. 

Jacen toddles back over, clamoring to be held, so Ben picks him up, careful not to let him make yet another grab for her glasses. He’s gotten past that, for the most part, since he stopped having to chew on everything, but he still wants to play with them. If it were anyone else, Ben would encourage it, but it’s not and she really doesn’t want to give the kid nightmares. At least, not ones that scare him. 

Rey gives the two of them a look over one of the taller rose bushes. “Oh, Ms. Ashtoreth,” she says, “I’d been meaning to ask, are there any good cafes in the area? Would you know?” 

Ben snorts. “You can drop the act, Rey. No one’s here but us.” 

“But the boy - “ 

“Who’s he going to tell?” 

Rey huffs, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Still. There are  _ things  _ we need to discuss.” 

“Oh. Oh, right.” Had she noticed something? Ben had been paying close attention to the boy and so far he’s been… well frightfully average and underwhelming, if she’s honest. Ben had thought she’d be more attuned to the boy’s oncoming power, but perhaps the angel has an advantage in that area. 

“Of course. Sunday?” 

“It’s Monday.” 

“Sunday is my only day off. It’s not urgent, is it?” 

“No, it’s fine,” Rey says, disappearing into the bush. “You’ll bring him back before then?” 

Ben rolls her eyes. It’s not like she’s interested in actually influencing the child more than her share. “No, I thought I’d hog his attention and carry out my nefarious plans in full view of my mortal enemy, even after we agreed we weren’t going to do that.” 

“Prick,” Rey mutters. 

“No!” Jacen shouts. “Mean word!” 

“Oh, for the love of God,” Rey groans. 

Ben throws her head back and laughs. “You brought it on yourself, sweetheart.” 

Rey’s glare, though obscured by the bush, is hot and prickly on Ben’s skin. “Go… kick some puppies or something.” 

“No!” Jacen wails. 

Ben shushes him, cradling him to her chest. “Don’t worry dear, we won’t be kicking any puppies. Anja is just mean.” 

“Thought mean was supposed to be a good thing,” Rey grumbles. 

Ben chuckles again. “We’ll see you around then,” she says, rising to her feet. “Good luck with the foliage.” 

Rey mutters a bit more and Ben leaves her to it, more than satisfied at getting a rise out of her. 

* * *

“He’s very good with animals,” Rey says. “Last week a doe came out of the woods -” 

“A doe. You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“He was so gentle. And absolutely mystified.” 

“I hope you put that poor creature back where it came from afterwards. You and I both know there are no deer in those woods.” 

“The point is, is he’s shown a good deal of respect for other living things. So. Point for Rey.” 

Ben rolls her eyes, hovering over Rey’s shoulders as they find their balcony seats. It was Rey who suggested the opera this time, which was fine with Ben. It affords a level of privacy and anonymity they don’t get with coffee shops or restaurants, and certainly more than they’d get on the grounds of the Syndulla’s residence. 

Also, it gives her an excuse to conjure up formal evening wear.[8]

“You must be proud of yourself,” Ben says, smoothing out her unwrinkled skirt. 

“Just because you’re losing.” 

“I’m doing my best here. It’s not my fault Hera keeps contradicting me. Do you know how many times I’ve had to fudge her memory this month alone? This kid is going to get me fired.” 

“That’s no good,” Rey says. 

“No, it would be good. And that’s bad,” she says. 

Rey’s brow pinches as she squints. “But bad is good for you.” 

“Right, which is why I don't want to get fired,” Ben says. 

Rey rolls her eyes. “You could’ve just said that.” 

“What fun would that be?” 

“You’re insufferable,” Rey grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. 

For a while, neither of them says anything. They only settled into their seats, watching as other patrons do the same. Ben’s not sure what they’re seeing tonight. Rey picked it, of course, because if it were left up to Ben, it would’ve been Fautstus  _ again _ and Rey would grumble her way through the whole thing. For mortal enemies, they do spend an interesting amount of time together. Ben prefers to think of it as strategic. Keep your enemies closer and all that. But truly, Rey isn’t awful company. Much better than any demon, that’s for sure. All they want to talk about is corruption this and Our Master that, the zealots. At least Rey can put aside the self-righteous attitude and appreciate a movie or two. 

“How are things with the boy on your end, by the way?” Rey asks after a while. 

“Terrible.” 

“Congratulations?” 

“No not - I’m not making any headway. He throws tantrums, but only for me. No amount of screaming gets Hera to give in. He says please and thank you, even when he’s demanding things.[9] I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

“That’s good then, isn’t it? He’s not completely evil.” 

“He’s not coming into his powers,” Ben says, barely resisting the urge to hiss through her teeth. 

“These things take time,” says Rey, “it’s like… baby teeth. Probably.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” says Ben. “I only - I have a feeling that something is off.” 

“How so?” 

“I just said I don’t know,” Ben growls as the lights begin to dim and the chatter dies down. 

“Well, he’s only four. Let’s give it a few years,” Rey says, fixing her opera glasses to her face. 

Ben does the same. They proceed to watch as Figaro and Susanna scheme and manipulate their way out of trouble, forgetting momentarily of Heaven and Hell and the all too normal antichrist. 

* * *

Ben has always considered herself a capable demon. Since the beginning, her work has been nothing if not satisfactory.  _ Go ahead, eat the apple _ \-  _ aren’t you the rightful King? _ \-  _ nail your thesis to their door, what’s the worst that could happen? _ \-  _ no, women love men who can play a guitar, even if it’s only four chords _ \- all wonderfully wicked suggestions. Sure, mankind has gotten up to a lot of trouble on its own, but Ben’s helped. If any demon deserved the honor of rearing the antichrist, it was her. So why is it so blessed difficult? 

It’s not helping that his mother, damn her, is a genuinely good woman who’s as attentive as she can be between running a non-profit, flying medical supplies to remote locations, and climate activism. Kanan, too, is a good father when he’s around playing with the boy and aiding his studies whenever possible. The deck was stacked against her from the start really. But her infernal influences should be stoking the same in Jacen. Like should recognize like. She shouldn’t have to count every white lie and secret pre-dinner snack as a win. And by Satan, she shouldn’t have to bribe him with sweets to get him to repeat dirty words! 

“I don’t think he’s the antichrist,” Ben finally says over dinner. 

Rey, who’s been shoveling lobster thermidor in her mouth like she’s afraid someone is going to take it from her, nearly chokes. 

“You’re not funny,” Rey says, coughing into her napkin. 

“I’m not trying to be,” Ben says. She hasn’t touched her bourguignon all night. 

“He’s got to be the antichrist. He just has to,” says Rey. 

“You don’t think he is either, do you?” Ben asks. 

Rey sets her fork down, folding her hands on the table. “I’m not saying he’s not, but, I did expect… something by around this time. He’s very normal. But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” 

“But have you ever felt any spark? Even the faintest tingle of magical influence?” 

“Well, no, but I was under the impression that would happen, you know, closer to Armageddon.” 

“Animals aren’t afraid of him. People don’t go out of their way to please him. No odd coincidences, other than what we do. There’s nothing.” 

“So then what? If he’s not then who is? They wouldn’t just hand you a normal baby and forget Satan’s own child. It’s asinine. It has to be him. You’re just - I don’t know. Wishful thinking. Or you’re losing your edge.” 

“I have never, in all of human history, lost my edge. But something is wrong here. I got Napoleon to invade Russia. _ In the winter _ . If Satan is this kid’s _ bloody baby daddy _ I should be able to run circles around you and here you are, winning. It’s disgusting.” 

“Sore loser.” 

“You have doubts! You said you had doubts! You don’t believe this kid is the right one either, so don’t you pretend this is all about me being a sore loser.” 

Rey sighs, taking a sip of her wine. “If it’s not him, who else would it be? There’s only one baby.” 

“There was another,” says Ben. 

To her credit, Rey does not sputter wine everywhere. She does, however, spit it right back into her glass. “There’s what?” Her even tone does nothing to hide how pissed off she is. Not by a longshot. 

“The Syndulla’s had a child. They had to, for the plan to work.” 

“I just assumed your people, you know -” 

Ben scoffs. “No, killing children for no good reason is more you’re side’s area,” she says, fully intending every once of venom in her voice. 

Rey squirms in her seat. “Well, where did that baby go?” 

“No idea,” Ben says. 

“Oh, that’s fantastic! Brilliant. If that’s the case you’ve lost the son of Satan. Great job, that.” 

“Hey! I didn’t lose anyone. I did my job. Take the baby to the nuns. That was it. It’s not my fault if someone else cocked it up.[10] ” 

“Why would a group of devil worshippers screw up the only job they’ve ever had?” 

“I don’t know, maybe they decided the apocalypse was a bad idea, too? Maybe it was an accident. But I’m going to find out.” 

“Oh you are, are you?” 

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.” 

“Like Hell, you will. I’m going with you.” 

“You can’t come with me. You have to watch the boy.” 

“He might not be The Boy. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you find The Boy without me. If you get to him first and start filling his head with fire and brimstone -” 

“Oh, come on, we agreed I wouldn’t without you.” 

“Which is why I’m going with you.” 

“What, you don’t trust me?” 

“Heavens no. You’re a demon, I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.” 

Ben rolls her eyes. “There’s no need for that. But, if you insist. I’m putting in notice tomorrow. Jacen’s getting a little old for a nanny, anyway.” 

“Fine, then I’ll do the same,” Rey says, stuffing a forkful of lobster into her mouth, putting a period on the whole matter. 

Ben shakes her head and pokes at her lukewarm beef. Stupid, stubborn angels. 

* * *

In the village of Tadfield, a young boy washes up for dinner. 

“Mama,” he says, squeezing his soapy hands together to make bubbles, “can Poe sleepover tomorrow?” He asks. 

“No, Finn, I’m afraid not,” says his mother. 

“But my room’s clean. And I took out the trash!” 

“I know you did, thank you,” she says, kissing the top of his head before turning on the faucet to wash her own hands. “But I have to work late.” 

“Work is stupid,” he mutters. 

His mother laughs, drying her hands on a dishtowel. 

“If you didn’t have to, could I?” 

“I don’t see why not. But I do, so maybe over the weekend?” 

Finn frowns, but nods in acceptance. Stupid jobs. He wishes his mother didn’t have to work, then he could have friends over as much as he wanted and his mother could stay home all the time. And he wouldn’t have to stay with Mr. Kenobi who smells like mothballs and never has any candy but butterscotch. 

The phone rings as the two sit down to dinner. Finn’s mother answers. 

“Tano residence. Ahsoka speaking - oh, Dr. Windu, is there an emergency? Oh. Oh. No, I - I see. Well. I’ll be in tomorrow to collect my things then. You, too.” 

His mother frowns as she hangs up the phone. 

“Mama? Are you okay?” 

“Just fine, sweetpea. Eat your food.” 

But of course, she’s not fine. Not really. She’s just been canned, and over the phone no less. Are they even allowed to do that? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 If God did believe in the backspace key, however, geese would be the first thing to go as they were created during an unfortunately low mood and are the only animals that both know how and actively choose to sin. [return to text]  
5 Read: Definitely was, definitely did, and, as typical in American politics, accomplished a sum total of Jack and Shit. [return to text]  
6 At one point she believed it was that they had a supernatural sense for evil and were spooked by her presence. Later, after her fifth pair of shoes was destroyed by a Hellhound and she’d been thrown by no less than three infernal horses, she’d come to the conclusion that animals just hated her. [return to text]  
7 Most demons recoil from it. Others lie about how nice it is. [return to text]  
8 Tonight, Ben’s chosen a backless gown (black, of course) with a deep v-neck and long billowing sleeves. Rey has pulled her old standby out of the wardrobe: baby pink number with an empire waist and chiffon bodice she’s had since Queen Victoria started pushing daisies.[return to text]  
9 One such incident involved the sentences “please, biscuits right now or else! Thank you!” which was confusing for everyone. [return to text]  
10 Somewhere in an alternate universe, a different demon has just sat up, ramrod straight and has uttered the words “hey, wait a goddamn minute!” at his own epiphany. These two occurrences are not the result of each other, but did happen at the same time. [return to text]


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for not updating last week. I got sick and absolutely didn't feel like doing it. But I'm better now! And I'll be moving updates to Thursdays because Thursdays seem to do better for some reason.  
Also, I've removed the chapter count because I had to split the idea I had for this chapter into three separate ones and I have no idea how long the whole thing is going to be now. (Honestly, how the fork is the cold open of Hard Times only 30 minutes? How did they cram so much history and relationship development into a 30-minute sequence? HoW?) 
> 
> As always I'm on [tumblr](http://rosemoonweaver.tumblr.com/) and there is a [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6GFqzRGtPbOy4oPfICgeWo)for this fic. :)

Rey gets a few hours alone with her shop before Ben shows up in his stupid car, looking as stupidly cool and disaffected as always. He doesn’t bother coming inside, he just stands there on the wrong side of the street, lingering like a bad cold. She catches sight of him from the front window, where he knows she can see him, his presence making pedestrians give him a wide berth. Rey gives her plants a triple check before heading out to meet him, taking longer than need be in her goodbye. She’s only going for the afternoon, after all. 

“Where to?” Rey asks as he holds the door open for her. 

“We’re retracing our steps,” he says, pulling onto the street and racing into the road. 

“Your steps you mean,” Rey says.

Ben grunts. “We’re retracing steps.” 

They fall into a comfortable quiet after that, no noise save for the motor and the operatic build of Metallica’s _ Bohemian Rhapsody, _ the latest in Ben’s increasingly small collection of CDs that has become a victim of whatever makes cars _ do that _. 

It isn’t until they find themselves outside of London that either speaks again. 

“You never did tell me why the Syndullas,” Rey says. 

“What do you mean why?” 

“Why are they raising the antichrist? I would’ve thought, well, they're not exactly compatible with Hell’s ideals.” 

“Oh, that? It’s a favor. A kind of, thank you to conservative politicians for their advancement of the cause. Their worst nightmare: an interracial, democratic family involved in environmentalism, humanitarian work, all that.” 

“Oh, how… thoughtful?” 

“Eh. Keeps them thinking they’re right. No last-minute crisis of conscience or repentance.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Rey says, trailing off. 

Ben shakes his head and laughs. 

* * *

Rolling hills and thick forests do not give way to anything but more hills and forests. Normally, Rey would enjoy this development. She’s always loved the natural beauty of the untamed land. She herself didn’t have a hand in the creation of the Earth, being a Principality and all, but she got to watch as other angels carved valleys and poured rivers into the soil. It was a fascinating process. 

This driving, however, is not a fascinating process. They’ve been at it for hours, longer than she’s ever been alone with Ben. The longer it goes the antsier she becomes. 

“Why are we in the middle of nowhere?” Rey asks. 

“Because what we’re looking for is in the middle of nowhere.” 

“And that is?” 

“Convent,” Ben says, “big stone building. You might’ve heard of something like it.” 

Rey rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing out here like that, you ass. Only an air base a few kilometers back.”

“It’ll be around here somewhere. It’s not too far now.” 

After ten more minutes Rey slumps further in her seat and groans. “I think you’re lost.” 

“I’m not lost. I don’t get lost.” 

“What about 1467?” 

“1467 was an aberration. Nothing about that year counts.” 

“Oh, so the donkey thing -” 

“Shut up, I’m concentrating.” 

Rey snickers until Ben jerks the wheel, slamming to a stop in front of a patch of overgrown grass and scorched stone. The grounds very clearly used to be something but now there’s nothing but the collapsed shell of rotting wood and stone. 

“Is that it?” Rey asks. 

Ben sighs. “Looks like.” 

“Well, it’s not a convent anymore.” 

Ben drops his head to the steering wheel. “I know.” 

“So now what?” 

Now what turns out to be a diner, thirty more kilometers out of the way. Rey gets herself a club sandwich and chips while Ben stews over a cup of coffee, black with two sugars. 

“So,” Rey finally says over a chip, “that was a waste.” 

Ben grunts. 

“Burnt down convent's not suspect at all,” she says. 

“Snoke, probably,” says Ben. 

“Well, that’s peachy. I’m going to take a guess and say he’ll be suspicious if you start asking questions.” 

Ben scowls. 

“Great. We’re screwed.” 

Ben huffs, falling backward into the booth. “We’re not screwed. Not yet. We can still find him. We’ve got a few years to find him at least.” 

“And how exactly are we going to do that?” 

“The nuns had to go somewhere, didn’t they? We’ll find one. Someone around here has to know something, even if it’s just a rumor. If we want to stop the apocalypse we’ve got to find something.” 

Rey hums, popping a stray piece of bacon into her mouth. “Why do you want to stop the apocalypse, Ben?” 

“It’s bad for my stock portfolio,” Ben says. His tone and inflection are too flat to make out. 

Rey snorts. “You don’t invest stocks.” 

“I might.” 

“I’m serious, Ben. What’s in it for you?” 

Ben slurps his coffee. “I just want to, okay? Hell sucks, is all. Nobody wants to be there but definitely not me. After all this?” Ben swivels his head, indicating the general everything around them. “I’m not looking forward to seeing it crowded with demons.” 

“Ah,” says Rey. 

He’s staring out the window, arm slung over the back of the booth in an attempt to feign casual, but his leg is bouncing enough that his knee smacks the table every so often. It’s very reminiscent of the first meal they shared in Egypt. 

They’d both wound up at the dinner held by Cleopatra and Antony where the food was outrageous and the wine was plentiful. There honestly hasn’t been a time since that Rey’s taken part in such excess.[11] Ben had been there, of course, to stoke discord[12] while Rey was supposed to smooth it over. 

Ben had been so jittery the whole time. Well, jittery for him. He was constantly looking towards the balconies, one eye on Rey and the other on the exit. It wasn’t until they were both deep in their cups that they actually started talking to each other. 

“Have you ever been to a symposium?” He’d asked her. 

“What? Of course not. What do you take me for?” She half-snorted. 

Ben shrugged. “Jus’asking. You’re friendly withhe Pharaoh, ‘s all.” 

“You think me loose,” she said. 

Ben gave the most awful, back-of-the-throat snarl she’d ever heard. “You? Never. They talk about books. Philosophy, maths, politics. Drink a lot, too.” 

“‘M not allowed. ‘Nless, I were - you know.” 

“So swap out,” Ben said. “I do it aaallll the time.” 

“I’m content with the corporation I was given, thankyou[13]. Besides, I shouldn’ have to appear male to discuss calculus. ‘F anything, the Pharaoh is proved sex doesn’t have to do with it. It’s not to do with th’ mind. The mind is the thing. Leadership and intelligence has nothing to do with the bits.” She flapped both her hands, indicating her form hidden under a very comfortable wrap she’d gotten in Athens some decades before. 

“That’s not what they say about her in Rome,” said Ben. 

Rey scoffed. “Leave it to you to ruin -” 

“Nonono. No. I didn’t start it. No dog in this fight, remember? Not me this time. Smart woman with a thing for snakes? Satan be blessed, I sort of like her!” 

“You have a funny way of showing it, trying to get her assssasssisnated.” 

Ben shrugged. “Orders are orders.” 

Rey hummed. Of course, they both had their directives. Sometimes they were vague, sometimes oddly specific, but nevertheless, they had to be followed, whether they liked it or not.

Rey is pulled from her reminiscing by the thought. 

“Ben,” she says, “if we manage to pull this off, what happens then?”

“What happens when?” 

“If we stop it? What happens after?” 

“Nothing,” Ben says, “we go about business as usual.” 

Rey holds her tongue, biting back the anxious little questions that niggle to be voiced. _ How can it, if this is what we’ve always been working towards? What is there after The End? _ She refuses to ask, but lets them sit in the back of her mind, working themselves out there, hopefully pushing out the one question she doesn’t even want to entertain; _ what happens to you if this all works out? _

* * *

Tadfield village is the quiet, peaceful kind of community that makes Americans coo and awe about the simplicity of the English countryside and wax lyrical about Myths of Olde and cozy cottages with tea and the two types of biscuits they can name. It is also the most well-loved place Rey has felt since Bethlehem. 

“Oh!” She gasps as they cross into the village, this time at a speed at least approaching reasonable. 

Ben’s eyebrow cocks in her direction. 

“Don’t you feel it? Well, no I guess you can’t This place - I just got the strangest burst of love,” she says. 

“Love.” He practically spits the word. “Love. Are you serious?” 

“Of course,” Rey says, smiling to herself. “I like it. It’s like a warm blanket and a cheese toastie[14].” Rey lets the feeling swim through her veins, quickening her heartbeat and flushing her cheeks. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Ben says. 

“Just because you can’t love doesn’t mean it’s ridiculous.” 

“Hang on, who says I can’t love?” 

“You’re a demon.” 

Ben takes his eyes off the road, brow furrowed in a sour scowl, ready to read her the riot act for bringing up his shortcomings, no doubt,[15] when Rey just so happens to look up at the signpost they’re about to ram right into. 

“Ben, look out!” 

He doesn’t in time and the grill of his once pristine antique crumple against the steel lamp post. Ben does not move. He does not howl or snarl or hiss. He just sits there, knuckles going bone-white against the leather. 

“Ben?” Rey’s voice breaks over a whisper. 

His lip curls upwards in a truly nasty snarl. “One hundred years. I’ve had this car for nearly one hundred bloody years and not a scratch. Not one single blessed scratch.” The lamp posts makes an awful screeching noise as it corkscrews around itself. 

“I’m sorry, Ben.” 

“Who the fuck put a lamp post at the end of a curve?” 

Rey almost doesn’t notice the movement to her left as Ben is still glaring at the lamp post as if it might begin begging for mercy at any moment. An old man comes up to their door and Rey cranks the window down to speak with him. 

“Are you alright, ma’am?” The man asks, torch in hand. It’s not quite dark enough for one, so the light hangs there uselessly on the road like a captured moonbeam. 

“We’re fine,” Rey says. 

“No, we’re not,” grumbles Ben. 

“Just a minor accident,” Rey says. 

“Fuck lamp posts,” says Ben. 

Rey smiles as easy as she can with a stressed-out demon sulking next to her. “We’re really fine,” she says to the still approaching stranger, but it doesn’t stop him from coming right up to the open passenger window. 

He takes one look at Ben, then the lamp post, then Rey, before wincing. “How on earth did that happen?” He mutters. 

Ben says nothing. Rey’s smile tightens. “Thank you for your concern, but we’re alright. We’ll be on our way shortly.” 

“You know, Ms. Tano is quite good with cares. She lives just up the road there. She might be willing to take a look,” says the stranger. 

“It’s really not that bad,” Rey says. 

Ben turns and glares at Rey and even through the glasses the heat of his eyes is enough to warm her skin. “Not that bad?” He growls through his teeth, “it’s my fucking car!” 

“Ben!” Rey sighs, pinching her brow. 

“Why don’t you come up for tea? I’ll get her to take a look.” 

The man takes a step back, still smiling. It’s much too friendly for Rey’s liking. Not the kind of friendly that someone with half-a-dozen corpses buried in their garden might attempt, but the kind of friendly someone with far too much time and curiosity my give off. It’s the kind of friendly of every PTA president, every lonely old woman, and every catty young man who spends far too much time at nightclubs. It’s irritating. 

Despite his grumbling, Ben doesn’t move. Neither does the old man. It’s awkward as Rey looks for something to say to either of them. 

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. - “ 

“Kenobi.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Kenobi, but we -” 

Without warning, Ben practically launches himself out of the car and around the back. Rey scrambles after, mind reeling at the sudden change of not only his demeanor, but the direction this night is headed. 

Together, Ben and Rey are led up to Rosewood cottage, a home that manages to be both sparsely decorated and a little cramped at the same time. They’re led into the kitchen, past a wall of assorted medals, photos, and one fencing sword in a glass shadow box. It’s the only wall in the entire house, it seems, that isn’t totally bare. Mr. Kenobi then seats them around a table, old envelopes stacked high in the center between them, while he sets the kettle on. 

He prattles on while Rey attempts a silent conversation with Ben via only eyebrows and frowns, starting with a brief lift of both eyebrows and a deep frown, which is answered with a flat, borderline non-response of a single lip twitch which Rey takes to mean _ what’s your problem now, birdbrain _ but to Ben means _ why are you doing that with your face? _

Rey responds by tilting her head and widening her eyes, a gesture she intends to mean _ what the hell are you even doing and why are you letting them touch your car? _ Ben takes this to mean _ I’m now pissed off at you, again, for some reason I’m not going to explain _ which Ben huffs and rolls his eyes at. She cannot see the eyeroll, obviously, but he’s confident the gesture is one that’s more felt than observed between them at this point. Rey then responds by squinting and frowning, which is correctly interpreted as _ you’re a dick. _

It’s not until after the tea has been poured, politely sipped, and appreciated that Mr. Kenobi leaves them long enough to have an actual conversation. 

“What are you playing at?” Rey asks. 

“We’re here for information, aren’t we? This is who we do that,” he says. 

“Lucky thing you crashed.” 

“Don’t,” Ben snaps, sipping his tea. 

Rey rolls her eyes but doesn’t push. “You better not open with Satanic nuns.” 

“Really? You think that might be bad? You think the quaint little locals might be a little spooked at the mention of devil worship? I never would’ve guessed.” 

“Shut up, Ben.” 

The door to the cottage opens again and Mr. Kenobi comes in followed by a small boy who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else just then. He can’t be more than eight, at the oldest. 

“Ms. Tano says she’ll take a look now, before it gets too dark. If you can move it, now might be a good time,” says Mr. Kenobi. 

“Didn’t I already?” Ben asks over the rim of his rose-patterned teacup. 

“I -” Mr. Kenobi’s eyes glaze over by a shade. “Oh, yes, you did. My mistake. My age must be catching up with me.” 

Ben smirks as Rey shakes her head. 

“So what are two young people doing out so late?” 

“Passing through,” says Rey. 

“We were actually on the way to visit family,” Ben says. “My aunt used to live around here, you see, about seven years ago and we were hoping she might still be in the area.” 

“Seven years? Are you certain? No one’s come or gone in at least a decade. No one but little Finn, here.” Mr. Kenobi pats Finn, the small boy he came in with, on the head. Finn bristles, but stays still. 

“We were told so. Maybe not in the village itself but close by?” Rey says, uncertain. 

“Ah. Well, you might want to call her. Like I said, no one’s come or gone in ten years. The next closest town or village isn’t close at all. Not close enough to be mistaken about.” 

“She was a nun,” Ben says. Rey kicks him under the table. 

Mr. Kenobi laughs. “Oh, you two are definitely lost. A nun? No convents around here, I’m afraid.” 

“Well that’s just great,” Rey mutters to herself. 

Mr. Kenobi begins to launch into an explanation of how few nuns active or former, there are in Tadfield and where they could possibly be when Ben flicks his wrist and Mr. Kenobi suddenly realizes that he should check on Ms. Tano and hold the torch for her, getting up and leaving without another word. 

Rey sighs, rippling the surface of her tea. 

“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?” Finn, who’d been quiet up until this point, asks. 

“Eye thing,” Ben says. 

“What kind of eye thing? Do they hurt in the lights? Mine do sometimes when my head hurts. Momma says they’re called migraines.” 

“No,” Ben says, “it’s a -” he makes a vague gesture about his face, “it’s a thing.” 

“Are they different colors? Rose’s cat’s got that. I think it’s cool but Poe says it’s weird.” 

“No it’s - “ Ben tries and fails to find an adequate excuse. Surely he’s had to explain the glasses before? No one ever mentions them when Rey’s with him, but someone has had to at some point. Right? 

“Are you embarrassed?” Finn whispers. 

Ben’s brow furrows. He licks his lips. “Uhm -” 

“You don’t have to be,” Finn says. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

“That’s good of you,” Rey says. 

Finn nods in the very serious way that only small children are capable of. “No one should be embarrassed about being different.” 

“That’s right,” Rey says. “Diversity is what makes life interesting.” 

“‘S what momma says, too.” 

Ben groans softly, kicking his long legs around Rey’s chair and slumping further into his own. 

“What’s your name?” Finn asks, looking at Rey. 

“I’m Rey and that’s Ben.” 

“Finn,” he sticks his hand out to shake, which Rey does. The kid squeezes just a little too hard. 

“Do you want to see a magic trick?” Finn asks in a very quiet voice. “I’ve been practicing.” 

Ben makes a valiant effort to not scoff but fails, his breath coming out in a strangled hiss. Finn’s face falls. 

“Ignore him, he’s just mean. I’d love to see your magic trick.” 

Finn scoots his chair back, standing in front of Rey. He pulls the pockets out of his jeans. “Nothing in my pockets,” he says, then shows her his empty hands, “nothing in my hands.” He then shoves his hands and pockets back into his trousers. “Abracadabra!” He shouts, twirling on his toes. From the corner of her eye, Rey watches Ben slam his forehead to the table. 

And then Finn stops, pulling a single daisy out of his right pocket. Unbent and unbroken, it’s like he just plucked it from the earth. He hands it to Rey, and when she puts it to her nose she’s struck with the unnatural scent of magic. 

“Ben!” She whisper shouts. 

Ben sneers, slow to raise his head. She shoves the flower under his nose as soon as she can, and while she cannot see his eyes, the wide-eyed shock is impossible to miss. His spine snaps to attention, dragging the rest of him with it. 

“Finn, how old did you say you were?” Rey asks. 

“Seven! My birthday was last month!” 

“Damn good for seven,” Ben says, mouth hung open slightly. 

Finn thanks him, oblivious. 

Well then. Looks like they’ve found the antichrist after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11 And she knew the Tudors.[return to text]  
12 Though, it didn’t need much stoking. Men, it turns out, have always been bitter and afraid of smart, powerful women and especially those who entertain ideas about being the masters of their own sexual desires and experiences. [return to text]  
13 Generally speaking, angels and demons are sexless. They don’t reproduce, so there is no need for sexual organs. However, they do have control over the way the bodies they inhabit while on Earth appear, from shape to size to hair, eye, and skin color, as well as anything else they choose, it simply takes Effort. []  
14 Love, it should be noted, feels different to everyone and every angel, but one type is indistinguishable from the next. To Rey, love is a blanket and a sandwich. To the archangel Gabriel, it is inexplicably a wool sweater that's been through the wash too many times. [return to text]  
15 The author would like to state that the inability to feel or want romantic love is not, in fact, a shortcoming. [return to text]


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. The author (me) said to xemself, "hey, you know when's a good time to start a whole new fic? The busiest time of the year!" Because that makes a ton of sense to do. :/ 
> 
> Be advised that this chapter contains some mentions of very bad historical things. Invasion, death, disease, filicide, and other nasty things are brought up. Also, Ben *is* a demon and cannot control his emotions.

It’s not a coincidence that Jasmine cottage, which had been the property of one family since it was built in 1956, went on sale that weekend. It was, however, the result of a very deliberate scheme that involved far too much money and a good, old fashioned bit of greed. It was rather successful, and the property came into the hands of one Mr. and Mrs. Solo by lunch on Saturday. 

“Married!” Rey shrieks when she finally gets her hands on the paperwork. “You got us married!” 

“Not technically,” Ben says, “that’s just what it says on the paperwork.” 

“I have to pretend to be married. To you.” 

“Well, what did you think we were going to do? There’s only one bedroom. Unless you wanted to live in sin.” The stupid grin on his face is almost too much. Rey barely resists throwing something at him, but there’s nothing within chucking distance besides the computer monitor and she really doesn’t want to get a new one of those. Again. 

Instead, Rey slaps the papers down on her desk, right under Ben’s nose. “You could’ve at least asked me first.” 

“So sorry I didn’t think to fake propose to my fake wife.” 

Rey grits her teeth. “I want a divorce as soon as this is over.” 

Ben chortles. “As you wish, sweetheart.” 

Rey takes a deep breath and counts backward from ten. She’s not enthused about this, even if it is for the good of the world. It’s one thing to work with Ben, it’s another to live with him, and it’s another still to move so far away, even if it is to keep an eye on the antichrist. She’d lived on the grounds of the Syndulla’s, sure, but that was still in London and she’d had Sundays off. She’s not going to be back for quite a while this time. She’s even had to hire help to keep the flowers alive! 

And of course, she can’t tell anyone Upstairs what she’s doing. They wouldn’t exactly take kindly to finding out she’s consorting with a demon of all things. Granted, they’ve never bothered to check-up before and she’s largely been on her own for the past four hundred years or so, save for a few notes and congratulations here and there. The likelihood that they’ll bother now is slim, but…

But it’s the end of the world, isn’t it? Aren’t they going to let her know? If it weren’t for Ben she’d had no idea. They have to tell her at some point, right? 

“What are you thinking, angel?” Ben says, drawing her away from her thoughts. 

“Nothing,” Rey says, a touch too quickly. 

“You can take some of them with you, you know,” he says. “Not all of them, obviously, but you should bring some things of your own.” 

“Angels don’t own  _ stuff _ . It’s unbecoming to be attached to material things,” she says. 

“Says the woman who’s held onto the same clothes for a hundred years.” 

“That’s different. I have to wear clothes. I can’t go around stark naked all my life. I have to blend in.” 

“Mmhm,” Ben hums. “Which is why you always buy your clothes instead of willing them into existence.” 

“It’s good for the economy. I’m supporting local business and allowing people to feed their families. It’s a net positive.” 

“And that skirt was bought in… 1913?” 

“1918, thank you. But! I have it mended when it needs it.” 

Ben shakes his head. “If you want my opinion, take the daffodils.” 

“I didn’t ask.”

Ben shrugs. “And the calla lilies.” 

Rey frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just go wait in the damn car.” 

Ben says nothing, but he does get up and wait in the car. If Rey chooses to take the daffodils and the lilies, it’s not because of Ben, it’s just that they’re pretty and she wants to. 

* * *

Rey had been on earth for about five hundred years when she was the serpent, the demon, again. It was also her first concrete assignment since Eden and had come from the desk of Gabriel himself. She was to watch, to lead Abraham up mount Moriah, and see that he was committed to his duty to God. 

No one told her what the duty actually was until they reached the peak. 

“Are you really going to make him go through with this?” The demon asked. He’d appeared shortly after Rey had stopped under a shade tree, slithering down one of its branches and materializing next to her. 

“Go away,” Rey said. 

“No, but are you really about to let him kill his own son? The son he’d been praying for for years?” 

“Why do you care, demon?” 

“I have a name you know,” the demon said. 

Rey let her gaze float over to her unfortunate companion. He was decidedly more man-shaped now, with long dark hair in loose braids around his shoulders. He looked much better as a man, even though his snake eyes were still on display. It must be the curse he’d have to bear, as a demon. The last letter she’d gotten from Heaven had said they’d be easy to spot, baring some marks due to their treachery. 

“Congratulations,” Rey said. 

“It’s Ben,” he said. 

Rey was doing her best to ignore him and watch, as she was told, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Abraham sat his son down on a smooth rock, speaking in hushed tones that were too gentle to hear. Isaac began to cry and Rey began to wish she was anywhere else. She’d seen death, but she’d never actually seen anyone kill someone else. She’d been lucky. 

“If you’re here to meddle, you might as well give up now,” she said, turning her attention to the demon. 

“I’m not here to interfere,” he said. “I was just in the area.” 

“Likely story.” 

“Have you any idea what Sarah would say about this? Haven’t you been cruel enough to this family already?” Ben asked. 

Rey bit her lip. “I don’t make the rules.” 

“Did you ever bother to find out what became of Ishmael? Out there in the desert? He could be dead, too, you know.” 

Rey said nothing, a hot spike of shame weedling its way under her ribs like a dagger. She was an angel. She wasn’t supposed to feel guilty and least of all about carrying out God’s plan. But she had been soft on Adam and Eve in the first place. Maybe this was her punishment. She would have to watch this family die, here and now, because she didn’t let them suffer enough in the beginning. 

“Some father of nations,” Ben muttered. 

Rey was caught, metaphorically, between a rock and a hard place. Literally, she was caught between a rock and a demon. Abraham did what he was commanded. What was she supposed to do? She didn’t want to be here, not as Isaac, the obedient child he was, cried out for mercy but lay prone on the rock slab at Moriah. She didn’t want to be here, but she couldn’t leave the demon here alone, either. Would anyone know if they just... Left? Surely she could come back later when she sent her report Upstairs. 

“I can’t watch this,” Ben said and snapped his fingers. 

Suddenly, everything stopped and Rey would’ve sworn that time itself had stopped if it weren’t for the bleating of a goat, now tied to the stump of a tree not a few feet away from Abraham, right in his line of sight. 

“What did you do?!” Rey shrieked. 

Ben took a step backward. “If God wants the kid dead, she can kill him Herself.” 

Abraham fell to his knees, praising God and weeping until the dust on his face was washed clean from tears. 

Rey’s stomach rolled. It was a blessing that she wouldn’t have to witness the death of a child, but she was acutely aware that she had let this get out of hand. There had to be consequences for this. 

“How! You - I - You!” Rey stammered. 

Ben sneered, his plush lips twisting into something truly unflattering. 

“I’m going to get in so much trouble for this,” Rey said. Certainly, she’d be reassigned. 

Ben shrugged. He couldn’t even say anything after that, could he? The asshole had just fucked her over and he had the audacity to be upset? Rey’s blood boiled as she picked up the nearest rock and hurled it at him. He vanished before it hit. 

Rey wound up finding a decent way to spin the goat disaster, arguing that she’d been tasked with making sure Abraham was committed to the task, not that he actually followed through with it. And, she argued, he was getting up there in age and if he really were to be the father of so many important nations, he’d need all the help he could get. It was… well, she didn’t get reassigned. She didn’t even get called it, which was a surprise. She was just sent a note acknowledging her deeds for the decade and that was that. Perhaps her little miracle with Hagar finding water in the desert and thereby foiling Ben’s nefarious plans had balanced it all out. 

She does still think about it at times; the thing Ben had said.  _ If God wants the kid dead, she can do it Herself.  _ In the beginning, she’d thought it was just his way of sticking it to her to heaven, and to God, but as she’s gotten to know him she’s honestly not quite sure. Ben can be surprisingly earnest, at times, and though everything in her, everything she’s ever been told tells her not to trust it, to trust him, she can’t help but think that maybe he’s got a little bit of goodness left in him. 

Take right now for example. They’re moving in, trying to pass as a young married couple, even though they’re none of those things, while their new neighbors watch. Mr. Kenobi has offered his help but been told to sit out on account of his bad knee, so he sits in the den, on a couch that is mostly put together[16] . 

“I used to be quite the swordsman when I was younger,” says Mr. Kenobi. “Taught Ahsoka half of everything she knows.” 

Ahsoka, the woman who vaguely remembers looking over Ben’s car, [17] not a week before, and the apparent mother of the antichrist, smiles over a box of brand new dishes. “All the half I’ve forgotten,” she says. 

She’s a lovely woman with bright blue eyes and light brown skin and a truly cheerful smile. She reminds Rey of quite a few women she’d befriended in the Ottoman Empire, back when she was avoiding the first world war. 

“Rey’s handy with a sword,” Ben says, “or she used to be, back in the day.” He smiles at her in a way that would appear friendly, if you didn’t know him. 

Rey just manages not to scowl at him. “That was a long time ago,” she says. 

“Ah, not that long,” he says. “You could pick it back up like it’s been no time at all.” 

“I’m terribly out of practice.” 

“Oh, how long has it been?” Ahsoka asks, setting the dishes down on the mostly stable dining table. 

“Forever,” says Rey. 

“I know the feeling. But if you’re ever interested in picking it back up I still have a few practice foils in the shed, provided they haven’t been eaten by mice. I’ve been meaning to take it back up, now that Finn is older.” 

Behind her, Ben waggles his eyebrows. Rey does not scoff because that would be rude and they have guests. 

“That’s nice of you. I may have to take you up on that.” 

Ben’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, his face the abstract impression of a question mark. Rey doesn’t resist the urge to smile, which again appears friendly enough but she’s sure Ben will take it as a decidedly more than[18] . 

Finn comes into the cottage then, carrying Rey’s calla lilies in his hands, followed by three other children. Rey does her best not to recoil from the sight of anyone but herself touching the flowers, but it’s a close thing. It’s like the floor has suddenly vanished beneath her feet, her head spinning. 

“Ms. Rey, where do you want your flowers?” Finn asks. 

Ben’s at her side before she can blink. “Here, let me take those,” he says, lifting the pot up and out of Finn’s hands before Rey can have a minor panic attack. 

“Do you need us to help?” The other boy, who’s only a hair taller than Finn asks. 

“Um,” Rey says eloquently. She’s still stuck on children coming in, carrying her plants. They didn’t touch them, did they? They’ll ruin the leaves with the oils from their fingers! It’s already bad enough they’ve been so jostled by Ben’s horrendous driving! She shouldn’t’ve brought them, honestly. She can’t make sure they’re okay out here, they’ve never been outside of a temperature-controlled environment. 

There’s a hand on her shoulder. Ben’s hand, gently steering her out of the kitchen and down the hall, into the bedroom they’re supposed to be sharing. Her back hits the headboard of their bed before she’s mostly aware of herself again. 

“Rey? Still with us?” Ben asks. 

Her breath trembles it’s way out of her lungs. “The plants -” 

“Are fine, sweetheart, I promise.” 

Normally, she isn’t like this. True, she doesn’t like selling most of what she has in the store, but she can part with them if she has to. If the customers listen to proper plant care, that is, and she has plenty to say about proper plant care. Most people want fresh cut flowers, which she can manage. But the live ones…

“Okay, tell you what? I’m going to get those nice people out front to leave and you stay here, gathering yourself, and I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re better, yes?” 

Rey nods. Or, she thinks she does. Her mind is fuzzy with the lingering panic of a cut off fit. What an impression to give the new neighbors. She hasn’t had a moment like this since… well the late eighties, probably. 

When she comes back to herself, the guests have left and their things have unpacked themselves. Ben is sitting at the table with a cup of tea still steaming, waiting for her. She does not thank him, though she wants to. He’d probably just brush her off anyway. 

* * *

“Shouldn’t you be plundering if you’re pirates?” Ben calls out. He’s been watching the children for about a week now. There’s Finn who seems to be the leader of their little group, and Poe, Rose, and Jannah. Rose has a sister, Paige, who’s joined in once, but she seems to be more of a homebody. 

“What’s plundering mean?” Jannah asks. 

“You know, looking for treasure, boarding ships, taking merchants hostage,” Ben says, leaning over the front gate. 

“Where would we find treasure?” Poe asks. 

“Try Mr. Akbar’s yard. He might have something fun in that koi pond of his,” Ben says. 

The children nod in agreement and scamper off down the lane. It must be that Finn really is The Boy because he’s already making more progress than he had in the past seven years. He’s gotten the children to make mischief wandering around the village, frightening cats, even staying out later than they’re supposed to. It’s small potatoes for now, but they’ve only just moved in. He can’t really bring out the pomp and circumstance yet, the humans will get suspicious. Ben would rather play the long game, a concept foreign to basically everyone in Hell. His bosses love the showy destruction, the plagues and inquisitions, wars and the like. And he’s had a hand in some of those, of course, but he’s never had to try that hard. Humans, by and large, are very good at messing things up themselves. He’d had this conversation with Rey, once, back in the 1220s, or so. She was the only one to really understand it. 

They’d been stationed in Jerusalem, awaiting the carnage that was sure to arrive with whichever of the Crusades they were on at that point. 

“They sent me a commendation for this,” Rey had said. She was swathed in ivory and gold from head to foot, the setting sun catching in the thin material making her almost glow, looking every bit as heavenly as she was. Of course, Ben should not have enjoyed that. He should not have thought anything good about how, even slumming it in the desert, covered in dust and dirt, she was a radiant light, a living symbol of love and hope and all things pleasant. But he was, naturally. Perhaps it was a moral failing to be a creature of darkness craving the light, but thus far in he’d come to accept it. She was always going to draw him in, like a ship, tempest-tossed and eager for dry land. He just wasn’t certain if she would be a safe harbor, the rocks on which he’d crash. 

And Ben, of course, was well aware of what he was. Ever the idiot, he’d been robbed in black, sweating his ass off in the hot sun, sand sticking in places sand never ought to be and dirt dripping off the back of his ears. He might not be as repulsive as some, but there was no mistaking what he was, what the general air of miasma he carried with him meant. If she was the lighthouse flame then he was a trail of oil, haphazardly spilled and waiting to catch the whole thing ablaze. 

“You did this?” It didn’t surprise him that Heaven would order some ridiculous battle. - they were almost better than Hell when it came to wanton destruction - but he almost didn’t believe Rey had it in her to be this cruel, despite the mean streak she attempted to hide. 

Rey let out an ugly snort. “You know I didn’t.” 

“You just said they patted you on the back for it.” 

“Well. I didn’t correct them. I can’t have them knowing you got one over on me.” 

“You think I’m responsible for this?” 

“Obviously.” 

“I haven’t meddled with the church. I can’t,” he said. 

“But if you didn’t do this… they brought it about themselves? In the name of God?” 

“They’ve been doing so for thousands of years now.” 

Rey’s brow furrowed as she stared into the distance. It wouldn’t take long, maybe a month at the most, for the Crusaders to arrive and make the streets run red. 

“They’ve been at it since Cain and Abel,” said Ben. “They love killing each other.” 

“You don’t help matters,” Rey said. 

Ben shrugged. “It’s not always me. I can’t be everywhere at once.” 

“Surely there are other operatives.” 

“Have you ever run into another demon? Even just once?” 

Rey didn’t answer, but the look on her face was answer enough. It was a thought that had occurred to Ben more than once, but he’d never had anyone to voice it too. He’d never seen another demon topside or another angel for that matter. They only time he actually saw anyone was during his trips back to Hell and they weren’t exactly known for lending their ears[19] . Really, it was just him and Rey, on Earth. Humans can and went too quickly. They could be friends, sometimes, but the ones that caught his attention were few and far between. And even then, you couldn’t exactly talk about your demonic activity to regular humans. They were a bit panicky about that. 

The truth of the matter was that when it came to having a companion in this world, someone to really understand you, all they had was each other. How dreadfully ironic. 

They had stayed in silent company until nightfall when Ben invited Rey back to the tent he’d been staying in. It was far enough away from the city not to be noticed, but close enough that it wasn’t a burden to visit the markets. For some strange reason, she’d accepted, and they spent the night watching uneasy silence bloom into comfortable, tipsy conversation about what they’d gotten up to since they last met. 

It was there in the low light of an oil lamp, Rey’s cheeks flushed and smile wide with the aid of alcohol as she talked about the mischief she’d gotten up to with the shogun's wife that Ben had a revelation; if there was anyone he had to spend eternity with, here on Earth, he was glad it was Rey. 

Speaking of, he really ought to see what she’s up to. Last he left her, she was in the den with a computer, looking for a job. 

Ben walks back through the front door, kicking his boots off as he goes. It’s his rule that there are no shoes in the house, but his general disregard for any rule means he’s going to leave them wherever they wind up[20] . Rey is still in the den, though a pen and notepad have joined her, the notepad on her lap and the pen cap between her teeth. 

“You know you can make whatever job you want appear, right? You don’t actually have to look for one,” he says, hovering over her. 

“Some of us like honest work,” she says. 

Ben laughs. “Oh, I’m sure. Don’t forget to put Moses down as a reference while you’re at it. That’s sure to impress.” 

“Stuff it, Ben,” she says. 

“Take me to dinner first,” he says, immediately regretting it because she has, several times at this point, and his brain is caught up both trying to imagine what she could be stuffing him with and beating those thoughts back with a stick. 

For her part, Rey ignores him. 

“Why do you want to work anyway? We’re already working,” Ben says after clearing his throat. 

She looks up at him through her lashes, pen cap still between her lips. Those big hazel eyes of hers are about as innocent as a baby tiger, but he’s a fool and he’ll fall for it every single time. 

“I can’t stay here all day,” Rey says. “How are we supposed to convincingly live here if neither of us works?” 

“You own a flower shop in London.” 

“And I’d rather not have you in my feathers every waking second of the day.” 

“I’ve never been in your feathers without permission[21] ,” Ben says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You know what I mean. I need a break from you, and I’m sure you do, too,” Rey says. 

Ben’s had a break from her, thanks. Several breaks, in fact. They tend to last centuries. “We’ve only been married for a month and you’re already sick of me. I see how it is,” he says. 

“There’s a nursing position open. I haven’t done that in a while,” Rey says to herself, making a point of ignoring Ben. “That I could do at night.” 

“I thought you swore off nursing after all the gangrene.” 

“No one gets gangrene anymore,” Rey says, shuddering. 

“You know, you can have the bedroom if you want time alone. I can sleep anywhere,” Ben says. 

“I don’t sleep.” Rey scribbles a few notes on the notepad next to her. 

“No, but I won’t bother you. On my honor.” 

“You don’t have any honor.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. They barbs - well he should be used to them by now, shouldn’t he? It’s not like she actually means them. If she did, she wouldn’t really tolerate him at all, would she? He’s seen her shut down worse. It’s just that she has a habit of hitting low. It’s terribly underhanded and rude of her. And it’s also kind of wonderful. 

“Fine,” Ben says, “enjoy pulling doll heads out of rectums, then.” 

She scoffs but he doesn’t care. He’s going to go make tea or something. And he  _ won’t  _ be leaving any for her. On purpose, at least. 

* * *

Ben was in a terrible mood. These past few decades were, quite honestly, some of the worst he’d ever experienced. The fourteenth century was shaping up to be a veritable shitshow. First, they’d wanted him to ride a dammed horse that spat fire and constantly threw him. Then, there was discussion of fracturing the church, which was not only going to be an idiotic amount of work but could seriously cut down on his ability to visit France if it all went according to plan. But then there were the fucking plagues. 

Being a demon, Ben really should relish the general human misery of it all, but after a while, it just got old. Sure, it was something when it was new, but after a bit? Well, there were only so many ways to watch someone suffer before it got a bit route. And perhaps he’d grown a little fond of humanity. He could hardly be blamed, he’d spent five thousand years among them, after all. They did a lot of things he could only have dreamed of as an angel, like cook and write and call God an asshole without fear of consequence. And they weren’t all that bad. They could be kind and friendly, even to someone who looked the way he did. They were certainly better than demons, anyway. 

Which was why the plagues were so upsetting, honestly. For one, there was the suffering. For two, it was the mess. Puss and boils and festering sores and rotting flesh everywhere. Bodies were burned before they even cooled in some cases leaving the world was coated in ash and stinking of death. It was nasty and exactly like Hell. 

“You look like shit,” Rey said as she sat down next to him in a tavern. He was sure he did. He was caked in mud and horse shit, on top of whatever other bodily fluids he’d encountered on the way. 

For her part, Rey didn’t look much better. Her skin was pale and her eyes dull. She looked fragile. Almost human. 

“You, too,” he said. 

A pitcher of something cool and drinkable appeared before them and they both started drinking without much discussion. 

“I hate this century,” Ben said. 

Rey grunted. “It’s not so bad outside Europe. The Americas aren't bad off. Or Australia.” 

“Florence is in shambles,” said Ben. 

“I was hoping to spend the winter there,” Rey said with a sigh. 

“Everything is fucking gross,” Ben said. 

“So many fluids.” 

“They’re making me ride a horse,” Ben whined. 

Rey patted him on the shoulder. Ben wasn’t sure if it was meant to be consoling or condescending but he chose to be consoled. 

“They’re saying it’s the end of the world,” Rey said after a while. 

“Nah,” Ben said, “I’d know if it was. This is just a new horseperson and all[22] .” 

“They went a bit overboard,” Rey said, looking out at the vacant street outside the tavern. In times past, the streets would be full of animals and people alike, fighting and shouting and laughing and moving. Sometimes there would be weddings in the middle of the streets, just because that’s where people agreed to do it, but there was none of that at the time. People were too afraid to risk the sickness that had already decimated whole villages. 

“She wants to make a good impression, I hear,” said Ben. 

“Good impression is one thing. This is overkill.” 

Ben grunted into his drink. He was so fucking tired. He shouldn’t really be, because he didn’t need sleep, but he was. He’d do an extraordinarily high number of stupid and embarrassing things to get some rest. Maybe, just maybe, if he slept long enough things would be better when he woke. Hell loved the mess, but it was difficult to get anything done when no one wanted to go outside or talk to strangers. And even if they did, all they wanted was health and safety. 

“Where are you staying these days?” Rey asked. 

“‘M not. Just came by on orders.” 

Rey was quiet for long enough that Ben had been considering calling an end to their little social call, but then she opened her mouth and surprised the Hell out of him… no, Heaven? Maybe? Regardless, she surprised him. 

“I have a place. Well. I’m staying in a place. It’s not mine but the previous occupants… anyway, it’s not a good idea to travel at night. Paranoia, you know. And they’ve taken to soaking everything in holy water which won’t do a damned thing for the bacteria but, well, it would be unfortunate. For you, of course. And as an angel, I’m called to protect life above all else.” 

Ben was actually a little touched by that. “Yeah, okay,” he said, knowing when not to push his luck. 

They walked together, mostly alone in the gathering twilight. Perhaps it was the low light and long shadows, but as they went, Rey looked more and more worn down. It was impossible for the two of them to really look their age, by human standards, at least, but she looked a fair deal older than her usual. She’d let the lines around her eyes show, just a little, and her hair which was usually so shiny and smooth, as brittle and dull with whispers of grey here and there. 

“You look tired,” he said. 

“I’ve been using a lot of miracles,” she said. “They’ve been on me about spending too much power, making the morals dependent or something. They say it makes them needy, like wild animals when you feed them, so I’ve slacked the glamour. It evens out.” 

Ben was too tired to make a comment about how Heaven enjoys their little dependent human pets when it means praise and prayer. He suspected Rey would be too tired to argue, anyway and there wasn’t any fun in it if she wouldn’t argue back. 

“They grey suits you,” he said. 

“I look old,” she said. 

“You are old.” That earned him an elbow in the ribs. “But you are. You’re one of the oldest things on the planet,” Ben said. 

She glared at him, marching forward into the tiny home she’d claimed as her own. The floor was covered in fresh straw, unmarred by water and animals. The fire in the center of the room snapped to life, licking the bottom of a large cauldron. The bed, a standard lumpy thing near the west wall, had been used, much to his surprise. 

“I wouldn’t’ve thought you’d be prone to human preoccupations about age and beauty,” he said 

“It’s rude to remark on a lady’s age,” Rey said. 

“I’m a demon. And you’re no lady.” 

Rey shook a blanket out at him. She then drew some watery broth from the cauldron and handed him a bowl, settling down onto the uneven mattress. Ben sat next to her. Neither of them said much as they ate, but it was, strangely, one of the best meals they’d shared together. The food wasn’t great and they were both on the weary edge of exhaustion, floating in and out of awareness, but they were civil, for once, neither feeling the need to wheedle the other about anything. 

Somewhere along the way, they fell asleep, side by side. When they woke four days later, the plague hadn’t passed and they refused to speak about what had to lead them to wake up in each other’s space, but things were just a little bit better. 

This is what Ben is thinking about as he watches Rey patch up Jannah’s skinned knee, oddly enough. She hadn’t been a nurse in the 14th century, but she’d done her best with what she had. She did go on to assist in the second world war, and Cromwell’s nonsense before that, and the revolutions in the Americas somewhere in between. He hadn’t been there for all of that, though. He categorically refused to fight in another war after The Fall, and he’d be blessed if he’ll have to do it on either side of human conflict. He’ll be blessed if he has to do it on Hell’s side in Armageddon, too, but hopefully, it won’t come to that. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Solo,” Jannah says, her tears long since dried. 

Rey smiles and smooths the bandage over. If he knows her, and he does, it’ll be healed by tomorrow. Because this is Rey and that’s what she does. She gives away her weapons and sacrifices her own comfort and uses miracles on silly bandaids and lollies for children. Because she loves them. Loves all of them, from the very start. She’s been their guardian since they were created, watching and guiding and aiding, even when her bosses get on her case about it, so of course, she loves them. 

And he loves her. 

Rey’s head snaps up and for one terrible, awful second, he’s certain he’s said it out loud. Of course, he would’ve because he’s a damn wreck around her. She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something but he beats her to it. 

“Hey, kids, go get some ice cream, my treat,” he says, materializing more money than a gang of eight-year-olds would ever need from his jeans. 

Finn’s eyes light up as he stuffs the cash into the boy’s hands and shoos them out of the house. He doesn’t follow them out but it’s a near thing. He needs to get the Heaven out of here before Rey says something and embarrasses them both. 

“Ben?” She sounds startled, but he ignores it, making for the back door. 

“Ben.” She grabs ahold of his arm. Fuck. 

He turns to look at the puzzled frown on her lips, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes. 

“Ben?” Her voice is whisper soft. “Are you… I’m sorry, I… you care for those kids,” she says. 

“Don’t.” 

“Is that what you meant when you said you could love?” Her voice is so damn gentle. Why is it that damn gentle? 

“I don’t love them,” he lies. Of course, he does, they’re kids, but she has to know that’s not what she’s getting from him. Even if it is a good cover, what he feels for any human will never hold a candle to her. 

“Don’t lie to me, Ben. I could feel it. It’s overwhelming. I’m honestly shocked I haven’t picked up on it before.” 

So is he, actually. Carefully crafted ribbing and general snark go a long way in masking emotions, but they can’t go that far. 

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize a demon could have such beautiful emotions. They said you lost those, in The Fall.” 

“I’m not - I don’t -” 

“Ben! This is wonderful!” His stupid human heart does a stupid inhuman flip. “Don’t you know what this means? There’s hope!” 

Sweet Satan’s asscheeks, is she saying what he thinks she’s saying? 

“Ben, this could mean redemption.” 

...Wait…

“You can feel love! You can be an angel again! We won’t have to fight against each other!” 

...Oh. 

Ben’s not sure how it happens, just that one minute she’s got him by the shirt sleeve and the next he’s got her by the collar, nose to nose against a wall, and he’s snarling in her face. 

“Don’t you ever say that to me again! I’m a demon. No amount of hoping or wishing is going to turn me into an angel. Do you understand me?” 

The startled look in her eyes gives way to righteous fury, every bit of her nearly burning with the holy fire she actually is. Her hands wrap around his wrists and pry his hands off her. Her feet don’t make a sound when she hits the ground. 

“You miserable jackass! Don’t you ever touch me!” She’s backing him up now, right into the kitchen table. “What the fuck gives you the right -” 

“Don’t be so indignant! You started this!” 

“How? By accusing you of goodness? Of being loving? How horrible.” 

“It is horrible! I’m a demon! I don’t love anyone or anything!” He marches her backward this time, puffing up to full height. 

“Right,” Rey snorts, bitterly,” How could I forget? This is just another one of your tricks, isn’t it? Playing with my senses so you can fill me with false hope and yell at me about it. Fuck you, Ben.” 

“It’s your fault for hoping. I can’t be redeemed. God doesn’t want me.” 

“And no wonder! If you were anything like this as an angel it’s no wonder you fell.” 

“I didn’t fall, I was pushed!” She’s back against the wall now. “I said the wrong things to the wrong people and I never went in for Lucifer, no matter how right he was about certain things. I didn't rebel, I was loyal! And I got a thousand light-year swan dive and a fuck you very much for my trouble. So don’t you ever presume to know anything about who I was or what I should be. I’m a demon, and I’d rather be that than any of you sanctimonious pricks!” 

Rey’s left with her mouth open and eyes wide. She looks like she’s struggling for words, maybe even a bit ashamed of herself, but Ben doesn’t stick around to hear it. He stomps his way back out the backdoor and into the garden, kicking rocks as he goes. 

He doesn’t come back until nightfall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 Ikea had been one of Ben’s, which was all ill and bad, until he had to figure out how to assemble a couch and a dining set while Rey laughed and refused to help. “You made your couch, now build it,” is what she said, because she fancied herself clever like that. [return to text]  
17 And found it _miraculously_ free of damage.[return to text]  
18 Rey’s not an idiot by any means. She’s aware that men, women, and people outside the restrictive construct of binary gender find her attractive. She also knows that Ben knows this, if his teasing is anything to go on. While she’s never found any reason to go in for that sort of thing in the past, she’ll certainly let him think she has and would be willing to, if it throws him off. He still hasn’t recovered from finding out that she was close with Sappho, back in the day. [return to text]  
19 Someone else’s ear maybe, but definitely not on loan. [return to text]  
20 His general lack of foresight means he’s usually the one to trip over them, too. [return to text]  
21 Another consequence of being the only two winged humanoid creatures on Earth meant to groom one’s wings was a difficult task and if they exchanged in mutual grooming it was out of necessity only. Or so they’d say if asked. But it’s not like anyone was asking. [return to text]  
22 A few years prior, Conquest had become disillusioned with the job and realized that having both War and Conquest on a four person team was a little redundant, so he quit. Once the position became open, Pestilence got the job, beating out both Malase and Inflation (thought it wasn’t much competition).[return to text]  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised: this chapter discusses suicide. Rey believes Ben is planning on and then later possibly has committed suicide (he isn't and doesn't).   
Please take care of yourself. If you've been thinking about hurting yourself or just need someone to talk to, please call the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or follow [this link](https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines) to numbers of hotlines outside of the US.

The sight of children in her garden is not new to Rey. Having lived in the village for a few years now, the sight of a gaggle of nine-year-olds anywhere isn’t new. The children tend to own the village and the woods that surround it, playing wherever they please. What is a surprise, however, is that the children are carrying a wheelbarrow behind them, loaded with a pile of wood. 

“Hi, Mrs. Solo,” says Finn with a gapped-tooth smile. He’d lost one of his front baby teeth just a few days prior. 

“Hello, Finn,” she says. “What are you kids up to?” 

“We’re building a fort, out in the woods,” says Finn. “Do you have any spare wood around?” 

“Or old tables you don’t want?” Asks Poe. 

“Or an old chair?” Asks Rose. 

“I - “ Rey eyes the less than standard wood plants in the wheelbarrow, many of which are splintered and warped with age. “You know, I think I do.” 

She leads the children back to the woodshed, which now contains enough suitable oak to build a sizeable fort, certainly enough for four children. “Do you have tools?” She asks. 

“We borrowed some from Poe’s mom,” Finn says. 

“Does she know you borrowed them?” 

“We’ll put them back when we’re done,” Jannah says. 

“She won’t mind,” Poe says. 

“You know, taking something without asking is the same as stealing,” Rey says. 

“But we’re going to put them back. It’s only stealing if you don’t give what you took back,” says Poe. 

“Your mother would be upset if she knew you took them without asking,” Rey says. Poe has stopped looking at her and is now inspecting the tops of his shoes. “Don’t you think you ask?” 

“What if she won’t let us?” Jannah asks. 

“Well, then you -” 

“She probably won’t let us. She’ll think we could get hurt,” says Poe. 

“Well, you probably should be under adult supervision. You’re only nine,” Rey says. 

“No. No adults allowed. They’ll make us play with those other kids and we don’t like them,” Rose says. 

“Your parents just want you to make friends and be nice to people. Have you tried that with the other kids?” 

“No!” The group says in unison. 

“They’re mean,” says Rose. 

“And they’re weird,” says Jannah. 

“You’re not going to make us share the fort, are you, Mrs. Solo?” Finn asks. 

“Or tell our parents?” Rose asks. 

“Well, I don’t want you to get hurt -” 

“Awe, come on, Rey,” Ben suddenly interjects. He’s leaning up against the side of the house and has been for who knows how long. She hasn’t seen him since she went to her room last night, after their separate dinners. “Let them have their fun,” he says. 

Rey bristles. She and Ben haven’t spoken in months. Not more than absolutely necessary, at least. She’s still mad at him for his little temper tantrum, pinning her to the wall and then storming off like a child. And for what? Because she accused him of caring about someone other than himself?

“They could get hurt, Ben,” she says. 

“Nah,” Ben says. “They’ll be fine. It’s just a fort.” 

Rey bites her lip. She’s tempted to argue, just on principle, but that won’t exactly endear her to the children. And, despite her issues with Ben that is what she’s after, after all. Realistically, there are worse things the kids could be getting into. 

“Promise me you’ll be careful?” She asks the children. 

“Of course.” 

“Yeah, okay, we promise.” 

“And you’ll ask permission to use Shara’s things?” 

“Do we have to?” Finn asks, looking to Ben. 

Rey grits her teeth and crosses her arms, hoping it conveys her irritation. 

“Well, if you put them back -” 

“Yes, you have to,” says Rey. 

“But she’ll say no,” Poe says. 

“Do it anyway,” Ben says. 

“Ben!” Rey shouts. 

“You just said they had to ask permission, not that they had to get it.” 

The children look back and forth between Rey and Ben, probably a little unused to seeing adults fight in front of them. Ben looks delighted, smiling more than he has in weeks. Rey huffs. 

“Just take the wood and be careful,” she says, marching past Ben and into the house. Ben, of course, follows. 

“Don’t contradict me,” she snaps, walking into the kitchen. 

“Don’t contradict you?” Ben snorts. “I thought that was the whole point of this!” 

“You cannot tell the kids to ignore me. I’m supposed to be influencing them, too,” she says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting me to tell the antichrist to always lie and always tell the truth? Did you hit your head?” 

“Shut it, Ben. You’re supposed to be carrying on on your own time, not interrupting mine.” 

“Your time? What your time? This isn’t like working different shifts. We share the same time now. We have done for years now.” 

“You are not to contradict me when I’m right there! What sort of message does that send? That you’re more of an authority than I am? They won’t listen to a word I say!” 

“Authority? Calm down, you’re not their mother.” 

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, Benjamin.” Rey clenches her fists, boiling blood pounding through her veins. 

“What are you gonna do? Hit me? Yell at me? Discorporate me? Try explaining that one,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You are such a bastard! I really should - “ 

Rey is cuff off by a bolt of light in the kitchen and the popping of several light bulbs. She clutches her head, startled, bracing for the glass to get in her hair. 

“I didn’t do that,” she says after all the lights in the house dim. 

“Neither did I,” Ben says. 

On the table sits a letter, still smoking a little and glowing with heavenly light. Rey does her best not to panic. She hasn’t gotten a letter from head office in ages. They know where she is, of course, she sent them a note, but they never bothered to respond. 

Rey carefully opens the letter, breaking the wax seal and extracting what’s inside like it’s liable to explode. It’s not like it would, though. Heaven always sends normal letters, even if the delivery is a little over the top. There’s no reason that would’ve changed now. 

“What’s it say?” Ben asks. He’s migrated towards the refrigerator now, out of immediate blast radius. 

“To the Principality, Rey, former Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden,” she reads aloud, “we are pleased to inform you that the End Times is upon us. We know your work on Earth has been long and arduous but the wait is soon to be over. Blah blah blah blah End Times, blah blah blah, please reply with measurements for new armor blah blessings, Gabriel. Why are they sending me this? I was the one who told them I was working on the antichrist.” 

Ben sneaks out from behind the fridge, eyeing the letter at Rey’s hip like it’s about to combust. “It sounds like a standard form letter to me,” he says. 

“But now? Two years until doomsday?” 

Ben shrugs. “At least they’re letting you know.” 

Rey scoffs., looking back at the letter and biting her lip. 

“So they… they know where you live, huh?” Ben asks, creeping around her shoulder. 

“Of course they do,” she says. “I told them.” 

Ben bites his lip, too, nodding. “Yeah, formality and all that.” 

“Right.” 

“Hell knows, too,” Ben says on an exhale. 

“But they don’t know we’re…” 

“Oh! No. No, I wouldn’t. That’s too dangerous,” he says. 

“Right! Yeah,” Rey says. 

The anger has evaporated from her now, replaced by pure, bubbling anxiety. What would’ve happened if Gabriel would’ve shown up just now? Or Michael? Or anyone? Rey’s never spent this much time with Ben. At least not in such close proximity. They’ve lived in the same city for the past 300 or so years, but not the same house. It would be easy to explain most other circumstances, even most times they’ve been in each other’s company - she is meant to foil evil plans, after all. But this? How do you wave off playing house with a demon? 

“I, uh, I need to get ready for work,” Rey says. 

“Right, you do that,” Ben says. Neither of them mentions that her shift doesn’t start for several hours. 

* * *

The American Southwest was a brutality Rey hadn’t been forced to endure since the Hebrews fled Egypt. It’s dry and hot and filled with poison. Most people were as tough and leathery as their sun-beaten skin, and they spat constantly. The streets and porches were constantly covered in brown, whether from dirt or spit or horse manure or blood was always hard to say. After a while, it all smelled the same anyway. Her clothes were always dirty, collecting dust like no one’s business and always so damn hot. 

If she hadn’t needed to make sure the sanatoriums were built she wouldn’t have even bothered with it. 

She walked into a saloon to escape the midday heat, her pretty silk hat wilted beyond repair and offering no shade. She’d only had the chance to order herself a whiskey when the room went silent and a familiar shadow darkened the batwing door. 

“Oh, Lord,” Rey muttered, tossing her shot and signaling for another. 

He was in black jeans and spurs, a bandana covering most of his face. His eyes, uncovered in a way they hadn’t been since before the birth of Christ, glowed in the shade of his dark brimmed hat. He tipped it in her direction, sitting a respectable distance away and ordered his own drink. The rest of the saloon went about its business, though uneasily. 

She could feel his eyes on her, despite her attempts to ignore him. Eventually, four whiskeys in, she gave up. “What do you want, Ben?” 

“Who says I want anything?” 

“Oh, so you’re staring for my health. Got it.” 

The bartender eyed the two warily, nodding not-so-subtly at another patron. One with a gun, no doubt. 

“‘M not staring,” he grumbled to his drink. 

Rey rolled her eyes, shifting on the barstool as much as her dress would allow. “So what is it this time? Cattle rustling? Train robberies? The invention of the spittoon?” 

“All of the above, actually,” he said. “You should hear what they call me.” 

“I don’t think I want to.” 

“Benjamin “Rattlesnake” Solo.” 

“Christ.” 

“On account of the -, “ he gestured to his face. 

“Really? I thought it was on account of your bony ass.” 

The bartender snickered, then went about washing a glass very seriously. 

“You can bite my bony ass,” Ben said, draining the last of his liquor. 

“You’d be honored if I would.” 

Ben whistled. “The mouth on you!”

“Shut up. It’s hot. I’m cranky.” 

“I can see that.” 

“I’m really not in the mood.” 

“You know what might make you feel better?” He asked. 

“Watching you fall into a horse trough?” 

“...No. I was going to say the miraculously free room in Maude's inn. The one with the cleaner water in the washbasin and the fans on the ceiling.” 

Rey squinted. “What’s the catch?” 

“Play you for it?” 

“What’s your game?” 

“Poker. Ever heard of it?” 

“Of course I’ve heard of it,” Rey said. What she neglected to mention, however, was that she’d never actually played. She’d seen it played and it usually ended in shouting matches and accusations, which was really more trouble than a simple card game was worth, in her opinion. 

Regardless, Ben smirked and lead her to a table where she demanded he loses the overcoat before dealing. 

She doesn’t remember who wound up winning the room[23] but the game did become a feature in their lives from that point on. Whenever they were drunk enough to stand each other but not so drunk that they couldn’t function, one of them might pull out a deck of cards for a bag or desk drawer or thin air and deal the other in. Most of the time the stakes were low, like a dinner threat form the other. Sometimes, they were higher, like an exchange of their jobs[24] . Currently, they’re playing for low stakes: a gift card to The Cheesecake Factory Rey was gifted for exemplary work at the hospital. 

“How’ve the kids been,” Rey asks, surveying her cards. 

“Same as always,” Ben says. “Still fighting with the other ones. Finn hit that fish obsessed kid in the face with a water balloon. Didn’t even pop. Left a bruise though.” 

“Was he aiming for his face?” 

“How should I know? ‘M not a mind reader.” 

“Should I tell him to apologize?” Rey asks. She’s got a pair, but it’s probably not enough. Maybe she can bluff him into adding a 20 to the pot, though. 

“What, to his rivals?” No way. You don’t interfere with schoolyard politics like that.” 

Well, he has a point. Kids are very serious about these things. If she does there’s no telling how the kids will respond. “Best not then,” she says. 

“I fold,” says Ben. 

Rey sighs. “You can’t keep doing that.” 

“Why not?” 

“The blind keeps winning,” she says. 

“You’d rather lose to me?” 

“I’d rather play the damn game.” 

“Well, you gonna call or fold?” 

Rey rolls her eyes. “Fold.” 

Ben sweeps the cards back up and deals them out again. “I think Rose has a thing for Jannah,” he says. 

“Already?” 

“They’re nine now. It’s bound to happen eventually.” 

“How do you know, though?” 

“She asked me if girls could get butterflies in their stomachs for other girls.” 

“Oh, well, that’d do it,” Rey says. The flop is… well, it’s a flop. She might have a chance then. She tosses a 10 chip into the pot. 

Ben hums, matching her. 

Rey eyes the pot, then him. She’s got two pair this time. “Dishes for a week,” she says, tossing a blue chip into the pile. 

“We don’t need to do dishes,” he says. “That’s not even a real bet.” 

“We don’t need money, either.” 

“So? I can’t spend dishes. Give me something interesting here, sweetheart.” 

“Fine. How about… the Malbec in my shop?” 

“Now you’re talking.” 

“And you?” 

Ben smirks. “All my Ella Fitzgeralds.” 

Rey snorts. “Are they even still Ella or am I agreeing to Queen, again?” 

“That only happens to the car. The records are safe.” 

“Okay, I accept.”

They both lose the hand, the pot still intact. It continues this way for a while and Rey wonders whether or not Ben’s cheating. He’s done so before, and so has she, but never over something so small. 

He’s either bored or up to something. 

“How about we make this interesting?” he says finally. 

Rey looks down at her cards. She’s got a straight, which is better than she’s had all night. “I’m listening.” 

Ben picks up a black chip, holding it over the pile between the two of them. “This represents limitless possibilities. If you win this next round, it’s yours. Anything you want, no holds barred.” 

“That’s a little broad. What do you mean by anything?” 

“Just what I said. Unrestricted and solitary access to the antichrist, the entirety of the Kew Gardens, the Bently, even. Just one thing, but absolutely anything,” he says. 

Rey takes a breath, looking from the chip back to Ben’s face. “And you’re asking for the same? Just one of anything?” 

He nods. 

She really ought not to; a demon with free reign is a very dangerous thing, even if it is just Ben. He must be very confident in his cards if he’s willing to offer, though, which means he’s definitely cheating. 

“No,” she says. 

“Kew Gardens, Rey. Completely your own. Or the crown jewels. A polar bear. My head on a spit. Literally, anything you want.” 

Rey licks her lips. “Why would I want your head?”

He shrugs, rolling his wrist. “Let’s say worse comes to worst and Heaven gets their war. Don’t you want to be the one to take down your eternal enemy? To get the upper hand once and for all?” 

“No!” 

“Okay, okay,” Ben says, holding out both hands. “You don’t want it, that’s fine. It was just an example. Because it’s on the table.” 

“Would you want my head on a pike if you won?” Rey asks. She’s not planning on taking the bet, not unless it’s really worth something she’s willing to lose, but it’s worth seeing where he wants to go with this, what kinds of things she can make him admit to wanting. 

“No!” Ben says. “Nothing that extreme.” 

“No… weird kinky sex thing?” 

“Wow, Rey, I didn’t know you felt that way,” he says, dryly. 

“Shut up, I don’t. But you won’t make me if you win?” 

“Of course not. In fact, off the table. Anything but sex things.” 

“And murdering each other.” 

“Of course,” he says, waving the chip a little closer to her. 

Rey picks up a white chip, rolling it in her fingers. Having a demon indebted to her could really come in handy, if, no, when the inevitable comes to pass. Hell’s military strategy could be at her fingertips, for one. For another, his total surrender. He’s not a duke or a prince, but he must be important Down There. He’s been their go-to guy for all of history, after all. 

“I want to redeal the cards,” Rey says, touching the chip to the pile. 

“What? No! The whole point is that we’re wagering on what we have in our hands. That’s how the game works. I know you know that.” 

“You wouldn’t offer something like this if you weren’t cheating. You won’t even name what you want, so you have to be cheating.” 

“I am not!” 

“Then tell me what’s worth risking everything,” she demands. 

“If I tell you that, you won’t give me what I want,” he says. 

“That doesn’t make me want to trust you.” 

“You don’t trust me anyway. And besides, you’re not naming what you want, either.” 

“I don’t know yet,” Rey says, “You did just spring this on me.” 

“If you won’t name it then I won’t either,” he says.

“Hell’s military strategy,” she says, immediately. “How they’re planning to carry out the war in detail.” 

“I don’t have that. What makes you think they’d even give it to me?” 

“You don’t own Kew Gardens, either.” 

“Yes, but that’s easier to get.” 

Rey taps the chip to the pile again. ‘Tell me or no deal.” 

Ben huffs through his nose. “Fine,” he says, tapping his cards on the table. “Holy water.” 

“Holy what? No, Ben. No.” 

“No? Are you serious? You want me to betray all of Hell but you won’t give me some measly water? Something of absolutely zero risk to you?” 

“I’m not giving you a suicide pill, Ben.” 

“That’s not what I want it for,” he hisses. 

“It’s out of the question,” Rey says, slamming her cards down on the table. “I won’t have you checking out on the eve of Armageddon.” 

“I just want insurance, in case it all goes wrong. Look, I’ll give you Hellfire if it helps.” 

“Hellfire!” She shrieks. “I will not be dragged into a suicide pact with you. You might be a coward, but I’m not.” 

“Would you just listen? What are you gonna do if the archangels find out about you fraternizing with a demon?” 

“Fraternizing? We are not fraternizing! I don’t even like you!” 

“Congratulations, Rey, no one cares! You think Gabriel is going to give a rats ass if he sees you playing house with me?” 

“So what, you want me to  _ murder _ my superiors?” 

“If it’s them or you? Yes.” 

“You!” Rey rises to her feet. Her whole body is trembling. “Of course, I keep forgetting who I’m dealing with. Just because you’re corrupt -” 

Ben rises, too, the pupils of his eyes widening, more cat-like than she’s ever seen them. He throws his cards down, face-up on the table. “Sometimes, Rey, I really can’t stand you,” he snarls. 

As he moves, Rey braces herself for another fight. She’s already got her fists clenched, ready to land a punch to his jaw, should he get too close. Instead, he walks right past her and slams the door on his way out. 

Rey runs her hands through her hair and screams. Stupid demons. Stupid Ben. To think, she actually thought he’d cared. Obviously, he doesn’t but after so long she never thought he’d stoop so low. 

Rey sits down when she finally stops shaking. Ben’s cards were a royal flush, all hearts. 

* * *

They’ve been avoiding each other. Rey knows it’s not a good look, given they’re supposed to be a couple in love, happily married and all, but she just can’t bring herself to spend more time than strictly necessary with Ben. The nerve he had to even ask her… 

The thing about it is that holy water is, next to heavenly weapons or the Wrath of God, the only thing that can truly kill a demon. Their bodies are fragile and can easily die given a great deal of trauma that the demon can’t heal quickly, but holy water is a complete and total annihilation. One would completely cease to exist if one were a demon unfortunate enough to get any on your person. Rey’s never been unfortunate enough to see it herself, but she’s heard it’s gruesome. Perhaps Ben’s never seen it happen. Perhaps he’s not aware of just what it would do to him. Or maybe he just doesn’t care, if he’s willing to destroy himself. 

As an angel, Rey is called to protect life. All life. Ben might be a demon and her enemy, but his life still means something. He’s still important and if the Almighty didn’t think so, She would’ve smitten him long ago. In ignoring Ben’s cry for help, she’s shirking her duties as an angel, and as Ben’s… well, perhaps they are friends now. They’ve known each other long enough that words like compatriots just don’t work anymore. 

Rey chews her nails, staring at her bedroom door. She’s been a terrible angel. She should’ve swallowed her irritation and dealt with the real trouble when it arose. Whether or not Ben wants to talk to her now and whether or not he wanted to drag her into his most dangerous and reckless scheme yet is irrelevant. She needed to do something weeks ago. She’s honestly lucky he’s still around. 

She takes a deep breath, gathering herself before leaving the safe haven of her bedroom. She has to talk to him and she’s not going to get angry this time. No matter what he does or says, she’s not going to let him push her buttons. She’s not going to give him an excuse to do something dangerous and stupid. 

It’s night out already, most of the lights in the house off. Ben isn’t in the house, though. He’s out in the back garden, spread out in the grass with his hands behind his head, watching the sky. 

“Ben?” She calls from the edge of the grass. 

His eyes, uncovered and glowing in the low light, flicker towards her before settling back to the sky. 

“I wanted to make sure you’re alright,” she says. “I realize I wasn’t thinking the other night. I was unkind.” 

Ben grunts but doesn’t move. Rey bites her lip, twining her fingers together. “I - uh, I thought we should talk about it?” 

“What’s there to talk about, Rey?” 

She takes a few steps forward, through the damp grass until she’s only a few feet away from him. “Are you… are you thinking about killing yourself?” 

Ben scoffs. “No, Rey, I already told you that.” 

“Yes, but I acted poorly,” she says. “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t care.” 

Ben’s head rolls lazily in the grass, eyes focused on her now. “Are you gonna hover over me all night?” 

Rey grimaces and settles down into the grass. It tickles her bare legs beneath her skirt, but not enough to be annoying. 

“If I wanted to kill myself, I would’ve done it already,” Ben says. “Holy water isn’t exactly rare in this part of the world.” 

“Then why -” 

“Don’t say it,” Ben says, “who knows who might be listening.” 

“Right.” 

“I will say that if I wanted to get my hands on, oh, a nuclear bomb, I’d go to a physicist and not try to put one together in my living room. Follow?” 

“I think I do,” she says, twisting a few blades of grass between her fingers. “But why would you want a nuclear bomb?” 

“Why’d the Russians want one?” 

Mutually assured destruction, then. “Is that why you offered, the - er, bomb?” 

“It’s not a suicide pact,” Ben grumbles, “it’s… why did Cuba need missiles?” 

“Show of force.” 

“No, defense. Cuba had missiles so the Americans knew if they ever pressed that button they’d get it right back. So that if they decided it was time to end the Cold War they wouldn’t be the winners. To remind them of the risk they were taking.” 

“So you want me to know I’m taking risks?” 

“Not you, America,” he says, pointing to the sky. 

“Oh, I don’t know if I could press that button.” 

Ben shrugs, stretching further out in the grass so his shirt hikes up his stomach. “You don’t have to take it.” 

“If you press that button you’re just delaying the inevitable. Or you’re sealing your fate,” Rey says. 

“I know.” 

“Mutually assured destruction  _ is _ suicide.” 

Ben sighs. “I can’t explain it to you, Rey. I wish I could, but I can’t. I just don’t want to be… last time…” 

Rey nods, though he doesn’t see it and she’s not sure she completely understands anyway. It would make him a traitor, what he’s talking about. Though, it’s not like she hasn’t asked the same of him. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, who he works for. Perhaps his loyalty to Hell really is superficial. Perhaps there’s still hope, regardless of how he feels about it. 

“Who were you, before, if you don’t mind me asking?” She says. 

Ben waves his hand at the sky, “no one special. Helped with those.” 

“The stars?” 

He nods, “that one,” he says, pointing to a star she can’t quite pick out, “that was mine.” 

Rey turns her face skyward, towards the glimmering lights above. They’re easier to see out in the country, but not like they were a few hundred years ago. They’re still nice, though. Something to fill the void when Heaven’s absence is so keenly felt. 

“Do you -” 

“No,” Ben says, “never. Not for a minute.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask,” she says. 

“You were, though. We both know it.” 

She hums. She can feel Ben’s eyes on her, prickling the skin his gaze aways does. Perhaps it’s some ancient predator-prey instinct, warning her of what’s close. It used to unsettle her, the way she’d feel when he’s around. But after so much time, she’s gotten used to it. It might even be a little bit of a comfort. She knows when he’s around when he’s watching her. His awareness is a crutch, something she can depend on when she can’t be as vigilant. 

“I wasn’t up there long. I was assigned to the Garden almost immediately and I haven’t really been back. They’ve preferred to send letters since paper’s been invented. But it’s -” she swallows, a chill rising with the words she’s not sure are going to make it past her lips, “it’s just me. All this time it’s just been me, except when it’s you, too.” 

“What are you saying, Rey?” 

“Just that, really, if I had to pick a hereditary enemy to share all this with, well, I could do a lot worse.” 

Ben snorts. “I’m flattered.” 

“What I mean is… if you were to get caught in the blast radius, I - that is -” 

“It’s okay,” Ben says, “I know.” 

She does turn and look at him now, at the soft way he’s regarding her, the neutrality he’s trying so hard to portray that just barely crumbles around the edges where the gentleness seeps in. He throws her off sometimes. More than sometimes, really. How can he be so nice to her? So knowing? How does he understand when she barely does herself? 

“Thanks,” she says. 

This time, when she turns to head for the house, he follows. 

* * *

Ben isn’t home when she gets in from her shift. That itself isn’t too surprising; he often heads into London during the week, just to enjoy the city. He’s not one for the country life, and since the birth of metropolitan areas he’s been right there, riding the coat-tails of humanity’s latest ventures, sampling the earthly delights as much as sowing discord. What is unusual, however, is that the car is still in the drive. He doesn’t usually take the bus, but perhaps he has this time. Or maybe he’s just on a walk. Either way, Rey isn’t worried. 

She settles in, showering before making a small breakfast, then caring for the plants. It’s a warm day in late July, the sun already risen and warming the earth. She could spend the day outside, if she pleased, nursing the pear tree out back. Before they moved in the thing was barely hanging on, unable to bear fruit and mostly dormant. It’s taken no small amount of time and patience and absolutely no miracles to get it to the state it is now, just beginning to grow a few bright green pears. Maybe when they’re ripe she’ll poach them. 

It’s close to midday by the time she comes back inside for lemonade and still no sign of Ben. Perhaps he lost track of time? Heaven knows it’s easy to do when you’re as old as they are. But, by the time the sun’s set and she’s seen neither hide nor hair of Ben, Rey starts to worry. 

She checks the bedroom, the bathroom, the garden, and even the rafters for a sign of Ben, whether he be man or snake-shaped, but there’s no luck. She takes a short walk through the woods around the village but there’s no trace of him there, either. She calls his phone and he does not answer. 

Rey runs through her list of options. She could ask the neighbors, but knowing them they’d probably want to form a search party. She’s not sure if it would be better or worse if they did find him, considering if they don’t they’ll call the police and that’s the last thing she needs right now. If they do find him, there’s no telling what state he’ll be in. If Ben were injured enough to revert to a more demonic form, they’d likely lose their minds. No, she’s on her own for this one, at least for now. 

She makes her way back into the woods, searching through the thick underbrush and in the trees until daybreak. 

It goes on for a week. She doesn’t find him in the woods at night, and he hasn’t returned home. The neighbors even begin asking. 

“Family emergency,” she tells them, “his mother is ill. He’ll be back soon.” 

They offer their sympathies and the children offer to cut the grass in his absence. She allows it because she doesn’t know what else to do. She makes the trip to London, visiting places he usually frequents. He’s not in any park or garden and there’s no trail of mischief to follow. The flat he keeps is cold and barren, no sign of life and more than a month’s worth of dust on every surface. Her shop, too, has not seen a hint of him, but she spends a whole day with the plants, soothing them as well as the steadily rising panic in her stomach. 

Three weeks in she calls a witch. They’re hard to come by these days, but not completely extinct. The one she found in the phonebook did a little scrying and charged twenty dollars over Paypal before coming up empty. When the witch said she might have better luck with a personal item of Ben’s she sent in a spare pair of glasses, but that too turned up nothing. 

It’s as if he’s completely vanished. 

He said he wouldn’t, but Rey is running out of viable answers. He wouldn’t , he couldn’t have decided to end his own life. There’s too much they still haven’t done, like save the damn world, for one. And, if the world keeps on spinning, there’s so much more, new plays and movies and music, new foods to try, new attractions to see. He can’t just quit now! He’d miss it all! And Rey, well she’d be left alone. In all of human history, there have been three constants: Rey, Ben, and Death. Death isn’t much for conversation, and he’s frightfully busy, so really the only being Rey’s been able to count on all this time is Ben. Perhaps that makes her a bad angel, but it’s not like it really matters at this point. What was she supposed to do, really, just be completely alone for the entirety of history because Heaven couldn’t be bothered to send her a companion? 

Who’s she going to play cards with, or take to dinner, or pretend not to laugh at when the ducks have had enough and start quacking rude things and pecking his shins? The thought of Ben truly gone from this world - she can’t. She can’t stand it. It aches in her chest like someone has reached inside and wrapped their hand around her heart, squeezing until it bursts. It makes her sick to the point of dry heaving. He can’t be gone. He just can’t. 

But why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like she’s been a great friend these past few years. Or anytime, really. She’s always kept him at arm’s length, if not father, despite the fact that if anyone could possibly understand what it’s like being here, it’s him. Despite the fact that they’ve stood in for each other more times than she can count. Despite the fact that he’s always been there to poke and prod and joke and just… be there. 

Despite the reality of him not being here breaks her heart. 

Rey swallows around the knot of emotion in her throat and prepares for the worst. If Heaven had come down to find him in her home she would’ve been notified. Hell might have him, but it seems unlikely that they would take this long to let him go. If he’s gone though… 

Rey ties her hair back and grabs a jacket. She’s not going to need it, being the middle of summer and all, but it makes her feel better. Less exposed. There’s a small parish just outside the village that she needs to check. Even if no one’s seen him, there will be traces… in the water. 

Rey steps out into the early morning sun twenty-three days since she last saw Ben, bracing herself for the worst when she notices his black-clad figure limping up the drive. 

“Ben!” She shouts, unable to help herself. 

He starts, nearly stumbling over a paving stone. His face is frightfully pale, but he attempts a smile regardless. 

She rushes out to meet him. “My God, Ben, it’s been weeks. Where the Hell have you been?” 

“Hell,” Ben says, wincing. 

“Are you alright?” Rey asks, reaching for his face. He catches her hands before she can touch him. 

“Inside,” he hisses. 

She nods, taking her hands back and offering her arm instead. He takes it and together they make their way into the house. She sets him down on the couch before rushing off to set the kettle on. 

“Are you hungry?” She asks. 

“We don’t actually need to eat,” he says, which is as good as a yes. 

She butters a few slices of bread, wasting a miracle to get the griddle hot enough for perfect toasting right away. 

“How long was I gone?” Ben asks from the sofa. 

“Three weeks,” Rey says, digging cheese and milk from the fridge. 

“Shit,” he hisses. “Sorry. I wish I’d left a note but you know how it is.” 

She doesn’t really. She’s never been forcibly recalled like he has. She speeds the cooking process just a little, lest she finishes too late and finds him gone again. She has his tea (too much milk, barely any sugar) and sandwich out before he’s finished peeling his boots off. 

“What did they want?” She asks, valiantly trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. 

Ben takes a sip from the still-steaming mug. “Preparing for Armageddon,” he says. “Weapons training, mostly.” He cringes as he stretches his legs out and Rey finally notices the dark, wet patch on his outer thigh. 

“You’re hurt,” she says, reaching for it. 

“No!” He jerks back, clenching his teeth and just barely not sloshing tea all over his front. “Mesopotamia[25] , remember?” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” 

“‘S okay,” Ben says, taking a big bite of the sandwich. “Fuck, I missed food,” he says. 

“Are you - are you sure you’re alright.” 

He nods. “I’ll heal. Least I didn’t lose a limb. Some of those poor bastards are never gonna be the same.” 

“For training? Seems a little rough.” 

“They’re demons, Rey. What did you expect? It’s not Hell because it’s fair.” 

“It sounds like they were trying to hurt each other.” 

“Cause they were.” 

Rey shakes herself if only to quit staring at the blood-soaked stain on Ben’s trousers. He looks a little worse no that she’s looking close, his skin ashen and flecked with dirt and God knows what else. There’s a silvery scar running down his face, likely from some unholy weapon, and his eyes are sunken in just a bit. On top of that, the stench of sulfur and rot permeates his clothes. It would turn her stomach if she weren’t so relieved to see him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ben asks, stuffing the last three bites of sandwich into his mouth. 

“I’m not looking at you any particular way,” she says. 

Ben raises an eyebrow at her and continues chewing. 

“Alright, fine, I was worried about you, okay?” 

Rey expects him to start smirking or weedling her, like usual. Perhaps even that awful put-upon pouting he does when he’s making fun of her, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he goes awfully still. 

“You were worried about me?” He asks. 

“Of course I was worried about you. You vanished without a trace. I thought - I know you said you wouldn’t but you just disappeared and I thought -” 

“Rey,” he says, sitting up. “I didn’t. I’m okay.” 

Rey huffs, willing her eyes not to tear up. “Clearly not,” she gestures to his face and leg. 

He leans in, not that far but just enough to be hovering on the edge of her personal space. He’s watching her like she’s the most interesting thing on the planet and suddenly it’s imperative that she keep her expression as neutral as possible. He cannot know how scared she was, or how desperately she wishes she could take his face in her hands and heal his wounds. He can’t know the sudden warmth blooming through her body, slamming against the walls of her chest like a battering ram. The full force of that feeling makes her gasp. It’s far too intense to be entirely new, no matter how she wishes it was or how much she wishes she could ignore it. 

“What is it?” Ben asks, his voice an impossibly tender rumble, like a purr. 

“You should take a bath,” she says. “You still smell like Hell.” It’s not even remotely close to what she wants to say, but then again she’s not sure what that would actually be. 

Ben sighs, dropping his gaze. “Yeah, I probably should.” 

Rey helps him off the couch and watches him limp away, hands still tingling where they’d touched. She knows this feeling; it’s always been one of her favorites since she’d watched Adam look at Eve that first time. It had always been sweet, something to wrap herself up in when the world got a little too cruel. Now it’s a horror. A heresy. Blasphemy of the highest order. One that’s always been there, watered by a thousand jokes and friendly lunches, pruned by playful barbs, and blossoming under tiny little favors. If Heaven or Hell were to find out about this - 

Suddenly, Ben’s request makes sense. Mutually assured destruction, indeed. 

* * *

It’s three days after Ben’s return that Rey waits for him in the kitchen, adamantly not looking at the thermos on the table. She hasn’t moved since she brought it in, irrationally afraid that the moment she does… well, she hasn’t put thought into the details. But something awful will happen, surely. 

Ben comes in through the front, toweling his hair off. The children had been having a water fight and he’d gotten involved, naturally. “Rey?” He calls out. She doesn’t call back. 

He stops dead in the entryway of the kitchen. “Rey?” 

She clears her throat and rises to her feet. “Ben. I’ve given some thought to your request.” 

“My request?” His eyes hit the thermos between them. “Is that..?” 

She swallows. “Mhm.” 

“Really? But you said -” 

She raises her hand to stop him. “I know what I said. But I’ve considered it, and, well.” 

They can only stand there for a moment, staring at each other. 

“Don’t say anything,” she says, “just don’t open it.” 

“O-okay. Does this mean you want -” 

“If you deem it prudent,” she says. 

He nods but says nothing, picking up the thermos like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever encountered. In many ways, it is. Rey answers with her own nod, before making her way into the den. Her voice doesn’t shake when she tells him she’ll see him after work, but every other part of her does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23 She does. It wasn’t her. She still maintains that Ben cheated. (He did.) [return to text]  
24 Their Agreement (not to be confused with some other kind of Arrangement) was tentative, something both of them knew was full of potential to go badly. The facts were the sometimes convenience won out and really, some of Heaven’s chosen were a bore to be around. As Billie Joel once said, the sinners are much more fun.   
[return to text]  
25 Ben had found himself with a broken arm at the time, for no reason than his own misunderstanding of how much corporations could actually endure. Rey’s attempts to heal him left him screaming until he passed out.   
[return to text]  
\----
> 
> If you liked this fic, you might like the playlist! Check it out, [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DWSNC7AjZWNry)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, everyone! We're about four chapters away from the end now! Woo!  
Please be advised that we're about to head into some pretty heavy topics. It's the nature of the thing, after all. Please make note of the updated tags. 
> 
> Also, something weird happened to the link to the spotify playlist last time I updated. I'm looking into it, but so far I'm at a loss.

Eleven years goes by fast when you’re immortal, faster still when you really don’t want it to. Ben and Rey have spent most of the week discussing their plans, stressing out, and binge drinking until they were both barely grasping at consciousness. None of these things were able to slow the ticking clock, however, and as morning on Finn’s eleventh birthday, Rey was out the door and on a bus back to London. They’d had a long, rambling conversation about it, but in the end, it was decided that it was best to split up, in the strange instance that they’d been wrong about Finn the whole time and Jacen actually was the antichrist. Ben, of course, stayed in Tadfield, hoping that he would and wouldn’t encounter the hellhound in equal measure. 

The hellhound’s union with its master is what’s supposed to start Armageddon. Up until now, Finn’s been a normal, if not exceptionally persuasive little boy. No more than the common witch, but much more than the average child his age. All of this will change once he’s bonded with the beast he’s been promised. Once that happens, and the powers of Hell are under his control, The End starts and there will be no way to stop it. Which is why Ben needs to stop the hellhound before it finds Finn. 

So now Ben’s alone in the dark cottage, trying to figure out what eleven-year-old boys want for their birthdays. His gut says itching powder, but if Finn actually is the antichrist that has the potential to be very bad for everyone. If he actually believes you’ll scratch your skin clear off someone might actually be compelled to do just that. Paintball and dart guns have the potential to be equally disastrous so those are out, too. Maybe a book? No one’s ever gotten into trouble over a book, have they? Well, not in this century in England, at least. He probably wouldn’t even read it, anyways. 

There’s a bookshelf in the bedroom of the cottage. It’s the only thing Ben thought to bring from home and the only thing he’s actually paid much attention to over the years. In the years before printing presses, it had been a hobby of Ben’s to transcribe little novels here and there. Nothing too infamous or important, most lost to time and decay, but he enjoyed hoarding the little bits of creativity for himself. Now, he just keeps them in a bookshelf that never seems to run out of space, no matter how much he crams into it. He was very enamored with science fiction when the humans finally got around to inventing it and loved stories about stars and space travel[26]. He doesn’t give any of those to Finn, though. It might not get read, but he isn’t looking forward to knowing _ Killing Time _ is stuffed under someone else's bed or getting water spots all over it. Instead, he pulls out a novel he’s never had the balls to read; a little piece of pastiche fantasy[27] whose premise was always a little too close to home to get into. He snaps his fingers, finding the book a home in a perfectly wrapped box, takes one steadying breath, and makes his way to Ahsoka’s house. 

The door’s unlocked, like everyone else’s in the village, so Ben lets himself in. He finds Ahsoka in the kitchen, fussing with a tube of colored food gel as she tries to write Finn’s name on his birthday cake. There’s a pile of newspaper wrapped gifts sitting on the table, and a dirty sock or two shoved under the table that’s only partially visible. Ben frowns down at the present, willing it to wrap itself more humbly, so it does, in a copy of last week’s Tadfield Advertiser. 

“Hey, Ahsoka,” he says. She jumps just a little, but it thankfully doesn’t ruin her piping. 

“Hi, Ben,” she says. “Good to see you.” Her eyes land on the present he’s carrying. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says. 

Ben shrugs. “Well, it’s not every day a boy turns eleven, is it? Besides, we’ve done it every year. I don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten.” Which is only partially true. Rey’s done it every year, and always with something new, not whatever they had around the house. 

Ahsoka smiles. She’s got a white smudge of frosting on her cheek. “Thanks. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” she says. “You can set it with the others, if you please.” 

So Ben does. 

“Where is the little hellspawn, by the way?” He asks. 

“Playing with his friends. I’ve told him to be back by tea.” 

“Right,” Ben says. Well, that limits it to at least the woods. Which isn’t ideal, but it’s a starting point. All he’s got to do is get out there before the hellhound does. “Well if that’s all, I’ll be -” 

“Where’s Rey?” Ahsoka asks. “Is she doing alright?” 

“Uhm, yes? Why wouldn’t she be?” 

“I heard she quit her job at the hospital last week.” 

Damn small village gossip. He should’ve known someone would start asking questions. This is what they get for making friends with the locals and trying to blend it. It’s much easier to get people to ignore you in big cities. “Right. She just thought it was time for a change, I guess.” That and working a full shift during the week of Armageddon was going to be a challenge. 

“See, that’s what I was worried about,” Ahsoka says, “she loved that job. Are you sure she’s alright? She’s been acting sort of funny recently.” 

“Funny how?” 

“She just seems… anxious.” 

Yeah, that’s an understatement. “She is a little. It’s nothing to be concerned with. She’ll be fine.” 

“You know, she used to come around in the afternoons when Finn was in school. I haven’t seen her at all this summer,” Ahsoka says, finally setting the piping gel down. Her fingertips are stained blue. “I haven’t upset her, have I?” 

“What? No. No, Rey’s not upset with you. She’s just…” what’s a good excuse? “Stressed because of some… things. With her… family.” 

“Oh,” Ahsoka says, “that’s understandable. Family can be tough. They’re not ill, are they?” 

Not in any way that can be fixed. “No, they’re alright. They’re just… overbearing.” 

Ahsoka nods. “They’re on you for children, aren’t they?” 

Ben nearly chokes on his own damned spit. “No! No. Definitely not, no.” 

Ahsoka frowns, her thin eyebrows nearly swallowed by the furrowing of her brows. “No?” 

“No. No, I can’t imagine they’d want any combination of me and Rey wandering the earth.” Just the idea of it would probably be enough for Gabriel to blow a gasket and level a city… again. 

“Ah,” Ahsoka says, “they don’t like you.” 

“That’s putting it mildly.” 

“That can be tough. I had a girlfriend once -” Ahsoka starts to tell a story about her first girlfriend and Ben groans internally. He really can’t stay for this. He’s got to be out there, looking for the blessed hellhound but is there any polite way to tell the antichrist’s mother that he’s really not interested in her love life and he needs to go stop her son from ending the world? No, probably not. 

Well, desperate times and all that. 

“Hey, Ahsoka,” he interrupts her just as she’s starting to talk about… well, he’s honestly not paying attention enough to know. “Hold that thought for me, will you?” 

She sits up ramrod straight, mouth shut and staring vacantly at the floral wallpaper. Good. 

He straightens his tie and makes for the door; it’s time to find that hellhound. 

* * *

“What makes you so sure you’re going to get a dog for your birthday?” Rose asks, hanging upside down on the tire swing. 

“I just am,” Finn says. 

Over the past several years the children have been building themselves a fort in the woods. It’s not much, but it’s far from the prying eyes of adults and hidden away from the other kids in the village. It’s their secret place, where they can be anything and do anything and there are no rules… at least until it gets dark. 

“I dunno, Finn,” says Jannah. She’s been half-heartedly pushing Rose on the swing for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for her turn. “Dogs are a lot of work. I wanted a dog but my dad said I had to prove I was responsible first, so they got me sea monkeys.” 

“You have sea monkeys?” Poe asks. 

“No, they died,” says Jannah. “They’re no fun. You couldn’t even see them, the tank got all covered in algae.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to clean it?” Rose asks. 

“No, they’re supposed to eat it,” says Jannah. 

“Well, I’m responsible enough to get a dog,” Finn says. “I take out the trash like I’m told. Besides, I want a dog. I’ll be more responsible when I want to take care of it.” 

“Did your mom tell you she was getting a dog?” Rose asks. 

“No. You can’t tell someone what you’re getting them for their birthday, even if it is a dog. It’s going to be a surprise.” 

“I don’t think you’re getting a dog,” Jannah says. “I saw your presents. There’s not any holes in the boxes. If you put a dog in a box you need holes in it, so it can breathe.” 

“Maybe she didn’t put it in a box,” Poe says. “Maybe she went to go pick it up.” 

“No, I’m going to pick it out,” says Finn. “You have to pick your own dog.” 

“Well then, what dog would you get?” Rose asks. “A big retriever?” 

“Or a water dog,” Poe says. “I think they hunt truffles. You could use it to get rich.” 

“What’s a truffle?” Jannah asks. 

“It grows in the ground. It goes on gourmet food because it’s fancy.” Poe says. 

“That’s disgusting,” Rose says. 

“Potatoes grow in the ground,” Jannah offers. 

“That’s different,” Rose says. 

Unbeknownst to the children, a hellhound watches just out of eyesight. He is a great black thing, dark as the shadows that creep across the foot of your bed long after midnight as come and gone. He growls, low like the rumbling like the churning earth below his feet, like the groaning, unsettled dead that writhe in their coffins below. His teeth are jagged and needle-sharp, far too many in it’s gaping maw for any human to comprehend. This is what he’s been bred for. This is the moment he meets his master, and together they will fulfill their insidious purpose. 

“I don’t think I want a big dog,” Finn says, jumping off the rope bridge that runs across a very small, very shallow valley. “I want a dog that can sleep with me at night. Something friendly, that I can play fetch with. Maybe a corgi.”

The hellhound tips his head in confusion but before he has a moment to react, he finds himself small, much too small to do anything more than nip at ankles. And he’s _fluffy_, his once coal-black fur now spattered with orange and white. He opens his mouth to growl and _yipps_. 

“And what would you call this dog?” Rose asks. 

Finn shrugs. “Baby, probably.” 

Rose and Jannah both coo while Poe makes a gagging sound. 

“That’s not a very good name for a dog,” Poe says. 

“It’s a perfectly good name for a dog! At least strangers would get his name right,” says Finn. 

The hellhound, Baby, yipps again and dashes through the underbrush, towards his master. 

Finn turns to the sound of a small dog, a corgi, charging towards him as fast as his stumpy little legs can carry it. He drops to his knees and calls out to him. “Here, boy. Come here, Baby!” 

The dog leaps, landing on Finn enough to knock him on his back into the dry grass. He gives the customary greeting for all Hellish beasts, a good slobbering all over his new master’s face. Finn laughs, digging his hands into his new friend’s fur. 

“Well that was convenient,” says Poe. 

* * *

Half a kilometer away, Ben freezes, the air around him suddenly growing charged, like lightning is about to strike. “Oh, no,” he mutters to himself, breaking out into a full, directionless sprint. In the distance there is laughter, and _barking_. Shit! 

He comes upon the little clearing in a corner of the woods dense enough to not be spotted from the roads but not too far in that a child could get lost. There, at the base of a great oak tree, is a fort. And outside of the fort are the four children, all huddled around a small orange dog. 

“Satan bless it,” he mutters under his breath. Maybe it’s just a normal dog? Maybe the kids have just coincidentally happened to find a regular dog in the middle of the woods and he’s been wrong about this whole thing. Maybe Jacen Syndulla really is the antichrist and Rey is out there right now raining Holy retribution down on some massive hell beast. 

“Hey, Mr. Solo!” One of the girls calls out. 

“H-hey, kids!” Ben says, offering a stunted wave in their direction. 

“Do you wanna meet Finn’s new dog?” Poe asks. 

“Your mom got you a dog?” Ben hopes, no, not hopes, wills it to be so. 

“No we just found him,” says Finn. “His name’s Baby. Say hi, Baby!” 

The dog… Baby takes one look at Ben and growls[28]. 

Ben’s phone rings as Finn chastises his new pet. With numb, shaking fingers, Ben answers. 

“Hello?” 

“Ben! Please tell me you’ve found the hellhound?” It’s Rey. Who else would it be, really? 

“Yeah, lookin’ right at it,” he says. 

“Thank God! I was so worried. Nothing showed up. Well, except for this magician but he was terrible. The kids started throwing cake. But anyway, you’re going to take care of it now, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” 

“What? Why not? Ben, what’s happened.” 

“I found the hellhound, I just didn’t find it first,” he says. 

“Ben!” 

“I’m gonna… I think we need to meet.” 

* * *

When it comes to matters like the end of the world, there are a few things that need to be made clear in order to fully understand it. For one, it doesn’t just happen and it certainly doesn’t just happen all at once. There’s an order to things that need to be followed if all things are to successfully come to an end. The antichrist gets a pet hellhound. Heaven and Hell must take up arms. The horsepersons must be summoned. 

There’s a cafe not too far outside Tadfield where a young woman, or presumably she is a young woman has just ordered lunch. Earlier this week she was in the Middle East, poking at centuries-old wounds. Before that, she was in Korea, and China, and the streets of southern California and the Caribbean Sea. And later this week she’ll be on an airbase, just outside of a small English village, to herald in the end of all things for she is War, the first of four, arguably the oldest of her brethren. She is War, the first of the horespersons. 

But adjacent to the table where War sits, waiting for lunch, sits another group of riders, clad less colorfully, and making a mess of their lunch. 

“You hear Speedy’s old man got locked up?” Says the youngest, who calls herself Dutch[29]. 

“W’as he got locked up for?” Asks another, this one who calls herself Chyna[30], around a chip. 

“Caught him smuggling lemurs outta South America. Tried to carry one on the plane in his coat,” says Dutch. 

“Why’s even want a lemur for?” Asks Red[31]. 

“You can sell ‘em for a lot of money, ‘parently,” says Dutch. 

“To rich women who spend too much on botox, I bet,” says Chyna. 

As they talk, a man walks into the dinner. He’s dressed in black from head to foot and looks like he hasn’t had a decent meal a day in his life. They don’t know it, he’s just come all the way from America’s heartland, having opened up his latest fine dining restaurant. It’s an exclusively molecular gastronomical dive where vegetables are served as aerated foam and venison is dried into crate paper-thin strips and nothing costs less than $75. The food waste is astronomical. 

He is Famine, the second horseperson. As he leans over to kiss War on the cheek, the stomachs of the four human riders rumble, despite the fact that they’ve already eaten full meals. 

Red steals an onion ring off Dutch’s plate. “W’atcha think lemur tastes like?” She asks. 

“I dunno,” says Dutch. “You hear they eat monkey brains in Africa?” 

“‘Course they eat the brains. Why’d you go wasting meat like that?” Says Chyna. 

“What’d you think rich people would pay for lemur brains if you told ‘em it was some kind of delicacy. Like you said they eat ‘em in France?” Says Red. 

“I said Africa you ditz. You even listening?” Says Dutch. 

At this point, another figure walks into the diner. They’re a pair of dirty white coveralls, stinking like oil and burnt wire. It’s enough to make the human riders gag. This rider is the newest edition to the horseperson’s ranks, taking over after Pestilence retired to spread lies about the “risk” of vaccinations under the username OrganicMommy1347 on various online forums. This horseperson is Pollution, and they’ve been very busy over the past few years. Climate change is big business, but it’s not business that gets done on its own; it takes sticky fingers and the promise of wealth, short-sight and corner-cutting, and lots and lots of dead sea turtles. 

Pollution takes their seat at the table, leaving a candy bar wrapper on the floor. 

Red drains the last of her beer and licks her lips. “You watch it girly. I can still knock you on the floor,” she says. 

Dutch holds her hands up in acquiescence. Something black and gleaming catches her eye out the wind. “Look at that bike,” she says, slapping Chyna on the arm, “isn’t that a beauty.” 

Out in the parking lot, a bone-white bike sits gleaming in the sun. Dutch has seen many bikes over the years that pull for the Grim Reaper aesthetic, most fail and wind up looking tacky, but this one goes full in. The tank is protected by a metal rib cage and the handlebars look like scythes. None of it is chrome, just white metal aged and ridged to look like bone. 

A chill falls over the dinner as the fourth horseperson joins the table. He is Death, and though he’s remained unnoticed, he’s been here and everywhere else, the whole time. 

A funny thing happens when humans encounter all four horsepersons at once. Humans are usually blind to the presence of the occult and the ethereal, except at points like these, points where reality is stretched to its limits and there is no lack of perception. All humans currently sitting in the dinner, know who’s sitting in their presence, and they know what’s about to come. 

The horseperson’s get up and leave, most of their lunches untouched, but the hush they’ve brought it stays. 

“Well,” says the leader of the human riders, who has been previously silent, “I say if they’re going to ride to the end of the world, so should we.” 

“But Doc [32], we don’t know where the end of the world is,” says Dutch. 

“Sure we do,” she says. “I reckon, if the end of the world is anywhere, ‘s gotta be everywhere, doesn’t it?” 

The three other women nodded, wicked delight pulsing through the group of them. They’d ride to the end of the world, and they’d be their own gang of horsewomen, reaping doom and destruction on the planet as the end times rolled on. 

“We need new names, though,” says Red. “We gotta be something.” 

“Right,” says Doc. “Come up with something. Something awful that plagues the world at the end of days.” 

Dutch thought for a moment and said: “I’ll be Women-Who-Bullied-You-in-High-School-But-Now-Want-To-Get-You-Involved-in-Their-Pyramid-Schemes.” 

“And I’m Men-Who-Read-_ Atlas-Shrugged _-One-Time,” says the rider formerly known as Chyna. 

“Good,” says Doc. “I hate people who pretend they know what they’re talkin’ about even when they don’t.” 

“And I’ll be People-Who-Say-"Bae"-and-"Totes"-Unironically-In-Real-Life,” says the rider who was once Red. 

“Alright ladies,” says Doc, throwing a wad of bills down on the table, “to the end!” 

“To the end!” Shout Men-Who-Read-_ Atlas-Shrugged _-One-Time and People-Who-Say-"Bae"-and-"Totes"-Unironically-In-Real-Life. 

“But Doc,” says Women-Who-Bullied-You-in-High-School-But-Now-Want-To-Get-You-Involved-in-Their-Pyramid-Schemes, “you’ve got to pick a name.” 

Doc smiles. “Death,” she says. Because while some things might change, there are a few constants in every universe. 

“Let’s ride,” says Death. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26 Ben himself has seen Star Trek: The Motion Picture 367 times. [return to text]  
27 If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking then yes, I really did that. I’m not above being overly referential. I mean, this fic has footnotes. Do you know how long it takes to code those? It’s not hard but it is annoying.   
[return to text]  
28 Which wouldn’t be a red flag, except that it’s eyes also happen to flash blood red for a moment when it does.  
[return to text]  
29 She is not, in fact, Dutch.[return to text]  
30 Her actual name, though she usually goes by Beth for spelling’s sake.[return to text]  
31 So named because she’s Irish.[return to text]  
32 So called because, before she retired, she was in fact a doctor. A podiatrist. [return to text]  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I finally figured out that Spotify thing. This should be the proper [link](open.spotify.com/album/2vDNi8F9UpSCaBHeKQ3nzh).

In the city of London, an angel and a demon sit in a flower shop, drinking, neither of them speaking. 

While Ben had failed to stop Finn from uniting with his hellhound, Rey was busy keeping an eye on the birthday party for Jacen Syndulla. He’d gotten a lot bigger since the last time Rey had seen him, but he didn’t recognize her at all. Rey had been thankful for that, desperately worried that she’d have to shove him out of the way of a hulking black dog at the time. But that hadn’t happened. Nothing had happened. The party went on as a normal party might, though with more cake throwing than was strictly necessary. 

She hasn’t even bothered to change out of the catering clothes she’d worn to the party, she just went back to the flower shop, kicked out the employees, and shut the blinds to start drinking. When Ben finally showed up, she handed him a bottle and watched as he plopped down on the floor, not even bothering to make it to the back. 

That’s where the two of them are at the moment, the dirty, rubber weave covered the floor of the flower shop, killing two bottles of red she didn’t even bother to check the year on. 

“This is bad,” Rey mutters to herself. 

“You can say that again,” says Ben. 

“This is bad,” she says again. 

Ben huffs and leans back against the standing shelf of perennials. “Got any ideas?” He asks. 

Rey shakes her head. 

“So we’re doomed, then,” Ben says, taking a long swig of his wine. 

“We could -” Rey huffs, grasping at straws. “Ben, maybe we should just… go with it.” 

“Give up?” 

“Not give up,” she says, “but… well, they did say this was the way it was supposed to go. We tried but… this is God’s plan.” 

Ben scoffs. “God’s plan. Seen her working around, have you? Getting involved _at all_? Because from where I’m standing it’s been all you and me.” 

“You know that’s not how it works.” 

Ben throws his head back rattling the metal behind him. “Used to be! Used to be She was always involved in something. So why now? Why has she decided to stay out of this one; the end of the damn world?!” 

“You don’t know that, Ben. She’s probably busy. Heaven has a lot to prepare for -” 

“Yeah, like war. All over the Earth. Killing demons and humans and whatever else happens to get in the way,” says Ben. 

“Well, yes, but -” 

Ben leaps to his feet, knocking the bottle of wine over. It spills down through the honey-comb mats, flowing like a lazy river towards the door. “Not like it matters anyway, now, though. The two of us, we are uniquely doomed. Hell thinks they’ve got the right boy. They’re probably heading to Megido right now in anticipation for the final battle. And you know what they’re not going to find when they get there?” 

Rey shakes her head, both a little too drunk and a little too panicked to properly respond. 

“Not the antichrist!” He shouts. “And when that happens, who are they going to blame?” 

Rey swallows around the lump in her throat. Ben isn’t wrong. The end times have always been prophesied to take place in the Middle East, and Hell will be there, waiting for the antichrist to start the war. When Jacen shows up, unable to do anything… it’s not going to go well for Ben. 

“How long do we have?” Rey asks. 

“How long until what?” Ben says. 

“How long do we have to figure out what to do?” 

“‘Till the weekend. It’s going to happen Saturday.” 

Oh, tomorrow then. Well, that's cutting it close. “Okay. I could… I could speak with someone Upstairs. I’m sure if I explain what’s happened and that I know where the antichrist is, that we’ve been teaching him right and wrong and he’s much less evil than anticipated, maybe they’ll see reason.” 

“Reason? Rey, you can’t be serious.” 

“I am! If we explain what’s happened then maybe they’ve realized they don’t need to go to war. If the whole objective is to stop Hell and the antichrist isn’t even worried about Hell in the first place -” 

“You can’t - Rey, they’re not interested in reason. They don’t care. All they care about is winning.” 

Rey wobbles to her feet, leaning against the counter for balance. “They might if we could just talk to them -” 

“We? You think they give a single shit about what either of us has to say?” 

“Okay, maybe not you. But I could -” 

“Rey, how long has it been since anyone Upstairs actually said anything to you? In-person?” 

“Well I - they’re busy.” 

“No, Rey, they’re not. Not as busy as they want you to think. All this time on Earth and they haven’t even bothered to check up on you?” Ben takes a step forward, his voice much softer than it was a minute before. “Rey, they don’t care. They’ve never cared.” 

“That’s not true,” Rey says, an uncertain wobble cracking in her throat. 

“Heaven doesn’t care about you. They don’t care about any of us down here.” 

Rey’s throat is dry like she’s gone years without a drink, despite the wine at her feet. “That’s not - they do! Of course, they care. I’ve been their best agent down here for as long as there has been a down here.” 

“Sweetheart, no. If they cared they wouldn’t have ignored you for millennia and you wouldn’t’ve had to hear about Armageddon from me.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rey says. She’s purged the alcohol from her system, mostly by accident. 

Ben gunts, balling his fists at his sides. “No, Rey! I do. If anyone knows what they’re talking about, it’s me! They abandoned you. They’re self-righteous assholes who would use you as cannon fodder as sure as they’d do anything else. Nothing you say to them is going to make them change their minds. The war’s on whether we want it or not and this,” he throws his arms out, “this is all going to burn.” 

“Now who’s talking about giving up,” Rey says with a sniff. She bites her lip, willing the emotions he’s kicking up to stay down. Yes, she’s been alone for a long time. She’s said as much and often wondered, on her worst days, what it might take to get a visit, but it can’t be true. He can’t be right. Heaven wouldn’t just abandon her. It’s a trial, is all; a test of faith. If she remains faithful then all of this will go away. It has to. 

“Maybe it is God’s plan,” Ben says suddenly. “Maybe it’s time for the Earth to die and all of Heaven and Hell with it. But that doesn’t mean we have to.” 

“Ben -” 

“Come with me,” he says suddenly. 

“Come with - what?” Rey’s heart does a somersault in her chest. A small part of her leaps with joy. _ With me! _ It says. _ He’s asking me to run away with him! _

“It’s a big universe. Tons of planets, scores more galaxies. They’ll never find us in the chaos. We’ll just, pop off to some galaxy far, far away, and -” 

“Ben, don’t do this,” she says, her voice refusing to remain calm. A little voice inside, a darker, more cynical version of herself whispers: _ yes! Do it! He loves you, too. You can be together and nothing bad will happen. _

Rey recoils from it. From him. He advances by a single step. “Please,” he says. 

It must be a test. The Almighty has to be testing her. Ben’s standing there, lip quivering, his voice the softest she’s ever heard it, standing among the peonies, offering her the one thing she knows she can’t have. 

“No,” she says, squaring her shoulders. “No, Ben I won’t.” 

“Rey, we are going to die -” 

“I said no! I’m not going with you now and I never will! You - you coward! Get out of my shop right now!” 

“Rey, please -” 

“I said get out!” She snaps. 

Ben’s shoulders drop. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll go then. But if I walk out that door I’m gone. I’m off to the stars and you’ll never see me again.” 

Rey loses the battle with her quivering lip. “Have a nice life, Ben.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he walks out the door, but she can feel his eyes, the age-old predatory heat of them, and all the disappointment she’s thankful she doesn’t have to see. The bell clanks against the glass, and Rey lets herself let out a single, frustrated sob. She does not let herself continue, but her traitorous corporation does it anyway. 

* * *

Meanwhile, also in the city of London, the freshly christened antichrist, his hellhound, and his mother walk into a pet shop. 

“Mama,” Finn says, leading his new pet through the door, “can we get a basket for my bike?” 

“I thought you wanted dog things,” says Ahsoka. 

“The basket is a dog thing. Baby has to sit somewhere when we go on adventures. I can’t just hold him in my lap.” 

“Can Baby stay in the basket the whole way? You don’t want him to jump out and hurt himself, do you?” 

“He won’t jump out. He’ll listen to me because he’s a good boy. Aren’t you Baby?” 

The corgi-shaped hellhound yips and wags his stump of a tail. 

“See mom, he’ll do it[33],” Finn says. 

Ahsoka frowns down at the small dog. “We’ll see,” she says. 

Finn takes it as the win it is. Maybe he shouldn’t be asking for so much the day after his birthday, but if he’d known he was getting a dog he would’ve asked for a bike with a basket in the first place. Not that his new bike isn’t great, it is, it just isn’t properly equipped for dog carrying at the moment. 

“Why don’t you take Baby to see what toys he likes best?” Ahsoka suggests. “I need to see about the cost of chipping. But do try to keep it under twenty okay?” 

“Okay, mama,” Finn says, tugging on the borrowed lead Mr. Kenobi had lent them, “let’s go boy.” The hellhound happily follows after. 

Dog toys, Finn quickly comes to understand, are a whole different kind of adventure. 

“Why are there so many different kinds of tennis balls?” Finn asks. “I suppose it makes sense to have small ones for little dogs like you, but why are there so many colors. Dogs don’t see colors, do they?” 

Baby responds with a curious head-tilt. 

“I don’t get it either[34],” he says. 

“Excuse me, young man,” an older lady calls out from behind, “I can’t reach,” she points to a toy that looks like a tire swing for elves more than it does a dog toy, “would you mind too terribly?” 

Finn isn’t much taller than her, but he reaches up on his tip-toes and manages to get it off the hook. 

“Thank you,” she says. “So polite.” 

“It’s no problem, ma’am,” Finn says. “Do you need to reach anything else?” 

“Oh, I should be alright,” she says. “But thank you for asking.” 

Ahsoka comes back around this time, carrying a tiny basket and a new ID tag for Baby. “Hey, sweetie,” she says, “did you find something?” 

“Not yet,” Finn says, “there’s so many things.” 

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find something,” his mom says. 

The atmosphere in the shop seems to shift, just a little, and Finn can still feel the eyes of the old woman on him, even as he’s turned to look at his mom. She must still be looking because his mother says something. 

“Can I help you?” Ahsoka asks. 

Finn turns around to look, finding the old woman looking at the two of them like she’s smelled something awful. “This isn’t your neighborhood,” she says, fishing the dog toy out of her basket and dropping it on the bottom shelf. 

“And that matters… why?” Ahsoka says. 

The old woman rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t aware they allowed you to talk back.” 

Finn looks back and forth between the old woman and his mother, only a little afraid of the look on his mother’s face. He’s seen that look before, but usually when he’s forgotten to clean his room for a few days and went out to play anyway. 

“No one _allows me _to do anything,” Ahsoka says. 

Finn scoots a little closer to his mom, and Baby winds his way between Finn and the old woman. 

“Obviously not,” says the old woman. 

Finn’s stomach twists up in knots, feeling very much like he’d rather be anywhere else at the moment. His mom has her arms crossed over her chest, staring daggers at this little old lady who seemed so nice just a moment ago. He doesn’t like this at all. 

Baby lets out a low growl. 

“Baby, no,” Finn says, tugging the lead just enough to get the dog’s attention. Baby stops immediately but looks back at his master and whines. “We don’t growl at strangers.” 

“Come on Finn, let’s go get some dog food,” Ahsoka says, guiding him by the shoulder out of the aisle, her eyes still stuck to the old woman. The woman tuts and lifts her chin. 

His mother mutters a very rude word Finn pretends not to hear. 

* * *

“You’re quiet,” Ahsoka says after they’ve loaded Baby’s new bed, food bowl, and toys into the boot of her car and have started their drive outside London. 

Finn shrugs and stares out the window at the slowing traffic. 

“You were a chatterbox before we got to the shop,” she says. 

“I’m all chattered out,” Finn says. 

He doesn’t look, but he can see her frowning at him in the reflection of the window. 

“You can tell me how you’re feeling, you know,” she says. 

“It’s stupid.” 

“Your feelings aren’t stupid, Finn. I’ve told you that.” 

“I know,” Finn sighs. A blue car pulls up next to them, blocking her reflection from view. He’s not sure if that makes it better or worse because he knows she’s still looking at him like she does when he gets a fever and he always hates that. 

“So…” 

“What was wrong with that lady?” Finn asks. 

Ahsoka takes a deep breath, staring out at the cars crawling forward. “You know, I hate this motorway. Whoever designed it needs a kick in the shins.” 

Finn’s not sure what that has to do with anything, so he pets Baby behind the years instead of responding. 

“It’s… difficult to explain,” Ahsoka finally says. “Some people are full of hate and say bigoted things. She made an assumption about me and decided she didn’t like me based on that.” 

Finn digs his fingers into Baby’s soft fur. He’s not dumb; he knows that people do and say really mean things based off what they see about people. He’s experienced it a few times himself, mostly because of the color of his skin and the fact that he only has one mom, but he thought that was something bullies did on the playground, not grown-ups. 

“What did she think about you?” Finn asks because he can’t conceive of a world where his mother is anything but the best woman in the universe. 

Ahsoka sighs. “She thought I was Muslim, because of the,” she gestures to her hair and her favorite blue and white scarf she likes to wear when it’s hot outside. 

“Why didn’t you tell her you're not ?” Finn asks. 

“Because that doesn’t matter. _ Wir sind alle Jude. _” 

“Veer send Allah what?” 

“It’s German. It means ‘we are all Jews’. It’s from a short story I read a long time ago. In the story, a tourist gets lost in Germany and he gets caught in a Jewish cemetery by a group of neo-Nazis. They ask him if he’s Jewish and he says no and runs away. When he tells his wife, she tells him wir sind alle Jude; we are all Jews. To me, it means that when it comes to bigotry and hatred, we have to stand together. I might not be Muslim, but there are millions of women who are and they are all my sisters. And I’d rather stand with my sisters and deal with the hatred than force them to stand alone just because I don’t want to be uncomfortable for a moment.” 

Finn frowns and continues to pet Baby as the cars make their way down the motorway. Finn’s not sure what to say. He knows people can be mean, but this makes him feel weird. He sniffs, feeling very sick and very sad.

His mom offers a sad smile and squeezes his leg again. “It’s okay to be upset. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t be upset. Okay?” 

“Okay, mom.” 

* * *

Rey lets herself be sad for a few hours. Alright, more than a few. A deep ache has worked its way into her chest, like a burrowing insect, hollowing out the spaces where her love used to reside and filling it with pain. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he would just leave the planet - leave her - and be done with the whole thing. 

When she’s angry, she believes it suits him; that he’s a demon and she shouldn’t expect anything less. He’s a coward and a fool and of course, he doesn’t love the world. He probably can’t love anyone or anything. 

When she’s sad, she wonders if she should just run off and find him. After all, if she’s successful, what is the point of it anymore? She’ll be alone on the Earth and that’s almost worse than it ending altogether. At least in the stars they’ll be together. 

But Rey doesn’t let herself grieve their friendship for longer than she can help it. She’s got an Apocalypse to stop, after all. Ben might have given up but she sure as Hell hasn’t. 

Rey closes shop, drawing the blinds and pushing the shelves of flowers out of the middle of the room. Many of the plants have started wilting and dropping leaves and flowers and their remains scatter the floor beneath her feet. She hates that she’s let them get this bad, but she’s had much more important things on her mind. A quick miracle will set them all to rights once everything is squared away. 

After the plants are moved, the rubber mats come up. With them in place, the white lines on the floor look like an intricate tile design, but without them, their true purpose is revealed; her one and only instant communication with Heaven. The runes are old, written in the language of angels, that is both indescribable and unpronounceable to human eyes and tongues[35], but they’ll serve her purposes well. 

She sets to work, lighting seven candles in the correct position around the circle, lights a cheap stick of incense, and the clean, blue light of Heaven’s halls floats down from the rafters. Rey straightens her skirt, licks her lips, and waits. 

And waits. And waits. 

After an embarrassingly long period of time, Rey finally calls out. “Hello? Gabriel?” 

No response. 

“Michael maybe?” 

Still nothing. 

“I’ll settle for Sandalphon.” 

There are no crickets in Heaven[36] but if there were, they’d probably be chirping about now. 

“Anyone? I really need to talk to someone. It’s me, Rey, the Principality stationed on Earth? I have some urgent news. It’s about the antichrist.” 

At once the light ripples and the face of an older man with a long white beard settles into focus. “Speak, Rey,” he says. 

“Who is this? Am I speaking to - to God?” 

“You are speaking to The Metatron, Rey. Whatever is said to me is said to God.” 

“Oh,” Rey says. Well, that’s disappointing. “So you’re like… God’s ansaphone?” 

“In a manner of speaking. What was it you needed?” 

“Well, I,” Rey swallows, “I rather think it’s a little too urgent for a delayed message. I need to talk to someone in charge. If the Almighty could spare a second -” 

“Armageddon is at hand. Everyone is busy with preparation. And you ought to be, too.” 

“Well, that’s just it,” Rey says, “there doesn’t need to be a war. I’ve found the antichrist. I’ve been attempting to influence him these past few years and he’s a good boy, really. I think if we can just talk to him there won’t need to be a war. We can save the Earth.” 

“The point isn’t to stop the war, Rey. The point is to win it,” says The Metatron. 

“But what about the humans? And the demons and angels? So many will die a needless death.” 

“A necessary sacrifice for the greater good.” 

“Oh.” Her heart sinks in her chest. What about the humans? What about the whole damn planet? After all this time, all the work she’s put into better mankind and it’s for nothing? 

“Remember what this has all been about, Rey. The End of Days and paradise eternal. That’s always what it’s been leading up to.” 

“Right. Of course,” she says. All the anger, the sadness, the sick sinking feeling she’s experienced over the past twenty-four hours evaporated until all there’s left is bitterness. Ben was right. Of course, he was right. And she’s been a fool for thinking Heaven would care. She’s probably the only angel in existence who could be this naive and this bitter[37]. 

“Well, as that’s settled, you’re needed to report for duty,” says The Metatron. 

“Right now?”

“Yes, Rey.”

“Can I have an hour? I’ve got some… things I need to attend to here first and I wasn’t sure when to -”

“There’s nothing left of import here,” The Metatron says. “Your platoon needs you.” 

“But I -” 

The Metatron’s visage fades from view, like fog under the warmth of the sun. In an instant, a wind rips through the flower shop, dragging Rey towards the light. She digs her heels into the tiled floor, concentrating on making her body as heavy as she can until the tile cracks and crumbles beneath her feet. Flower petals and leaves swirl in the air around her as trowels and shears clatter to the floor. The candle flames around the circle grow higher, twirling like a tornado of flame towards the sky. 

“No!” She shouts, scrambling for the floral displays, the shelves on the walls, anything to keep her in the shop and out of the force of the wind. But it’s no use. Eventually, the pull is too strong and her feet fall out from under her as she’s carried through the circle and into Heaven’s light. 

The light in the shop dims and everything settles to a resting place. One of the candles, which had been knocked on its side in the fray, rolls to a stop at the base of a dead petunia and catches ablaze. 

* * *

Finn sighs and tilts the rolling chair in his mom’s office as far back as he can. She’s at work again, and Poe can’t play until he finishes his chores, and Jannah has a doctor’s appointment so he’s stuck in the house for a while. He could go out to the garden and play with Baby for a bit, but it’s boring without his friends. 

He could get on the computer, though. 

His mom doesn’t like it when he’s on it for anything that isn’t school-related when she’s not home, but he’s done it before. Mr. Solo says that as long as your parents don’t know about it, it’s not really a problem and so far it hasn’t been. His mom doesn’t know he browses sometimes and plays those point-and-click games that don’t cost money, and nothing bad has happened so far. As long as he stays off those weird sites he’ll be okay. 

Finn logs on and quickly gets bored. He doesn’t want to play games and there’s not much else to do on the computer, anyway. He almost logs off, when a thought occurs to him; he could always do a little research. He’s not usually interested in that kind of thing outside of school, but Mrs. Solo says it’s a good idea to look things up when you’re curious. And he is curious. The conversation he had with his mom yesterday has got him thinking. They talked a little bit more about racism and bigotry over dinner, but he doesn’t have all the answers he wants. Obviously, he knows that people can say awful things to each other, but why? Why do people hate Muslims? Why do people hate gay people? Why do people hate people who look like Finn does? Or Poe? What do people do to each other, other than say nasty things? Do people do more than say nasty things? 

Finn loads Google, and types a single sentence: 

_ What does racism look like today? _

* * *

Ben’s pacing the floor of his flat, muttering to himself in between bouts of running back and forth between his phone and the giant astrology book he has open on his desk. Since he left Rey’s the day before he’s been doing little else, after he gave up on trying to stress clean, of course. His flat isn’t much of a home. If anything, it’s a nicely decorated concrete box with the best entertainment system[38] money can buy. It’s a blessing, then, that there’s nothing here he’ll be too upset to lose. Or not a blessing. A damning? Whatever. It’s a good thing for him that he won’t miss any of it. 

“Okay,” Ben says out loud, “Okay, look,” he casts his eyes toward the ceiling, “I know we don’t talk much, but if you’ve ever cared about me at all I need you to listen now. I know you said you’d test them, and that this whole thing was the way it was supposed to go, but you have to have some kind of fail-safe, don’t you?” 

He plops down in the rolling chair at his desk, dragging his hands through his thick hair. “This isn’t fair and you know it. Finn didn’t ask to be the antichrist. None of the humans asked for any of this. So can we just - Rey’s going to try to talk some sense into the archangels. I know how you feel about me and maybe the humans too, because of me, but if you have any love for anything, it’s got to be Rey. So please, just - listen to her.” 

As always, there is no answer. 

Except… 

“How sweet,” a voice from the hallway forces Ben to lurch upright. Standing in the doorway of his office is Snoke, Duke of Hell. He’s looking as tackless and skeevy as always, in a gold tracksuit that would be better suited to 1970s porn star than a demon. 

“Snoke! Um. Hi,” Ben says weakly. 

“I’d heard you were consorting with angels but this? This is pathetic,” says Snoke. 

He sways into the room and Ben rises to his feet, keeping his desk between the two. His thermos of holy water is sitting on the desk, a fail-safe he’s been keeping close since Rey gave it to him. This is, of course, exactly what he’s been keeping it for, he just needs to figure out how to use it without getting himself killed in the process. 

“Consorting? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Ben. 

Snoke snarls. “Don’t you? That feathery little optimist you’ve been making eyes at since the dawn of time?” 

Ben swallows, pulling the thermos close to himself. 

“Yes, that’s right. We know all about your little dalliances. And now you’re talking to Her? You’ve forgotten your place, boy,” he says. 

He’s standing at the edge of the desk now. 

“My place?” Ben does his best to unscrew the top cap as inconspicuously as possible. 

“Don’t play stupid, boy.” 

“I thought my place was to tempt. What better way than to tempt an angel? God’s own paragon of virtue?” He gets the top lid loose and begins working on the second. 

“Save it. You never had plans to turn her, did you? No, of course not. You’ve gotten soft. Sentimental. You believe you can be saved, don’t you? That little angel is your insurance policy. Too bad Heaven’s onto her, too.” 

Alarm bells blare in Ben’s mind. He needs to get out of here, now. He needs to find Rey and drag her, kicking and screaming if need be, off this planet, before it’s too late. 

“Stop fiddling with that!” Snoke snaps. 

Ben looks down at the thermos. The second lid isn’t open yet, but it’s loose enough. Maybe. Only one way to find out. 

“Give it here,” Snoke says. 

Ben slides the thermos halfway across the desk. Snoke’s long, talon fingers curl around it. 

“It’s time to go, Ben,” he says. As he withdraws the thermos Ben takes his chance. He shoves the desk as hard as possible, ramming it right into Snoke’s middle. He drops the thermos, and a trail of water flows out, across the desk, soaking into the front of Snoke’s sweatshirt. 

Snoke has time to look up at him, mouth agape before the holy water takes effect. He begins to smoke, clutching his stomach, as the water burns away through the core of him. His top half falls off first, hitting the floor as the rest of him dissolves into a puddle of smoking sludge. 

Ben gulps, peeking around the edge of his desk, watching for a moment thermos continues to trickle down on the floor and eat through the rest of the former Duke of Hell. 

“Holy shit,” he mutters to himself. He’s done it. He’s actually done it. He’s murdered a Duke of Hell. If he wasn’t in the shit before he is now. 

Ben shakes himself, dragging his eyes away from the horror in front of him. He needs to get out to Rey and get the Hell off this planet immediately. 

Ben skirts around the steaming pile that once was Snoke and makes for the door as fast as his feet can carry him. 

* * *

“Are you okay, Finn?” Rose asks. 

Finn has been sitting in their fort for almost a half-hour, quiet, while the other kids play sword fight and fetch with Baby. 

“Not really,” Finn says. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks. 

Finn kicks a stray rock out of the doorway, watching as it rolls down the slight hill upon which their little fort sits. “I found out some bad stuff today,” he says. 

“Is it about your mom?” 

“No,” Finn says. “Rose, did you know that in other countries they’ll kill you if you’re gay?” 

“What? No, they can’t do that,” says Rose. 

“They can,” Finn says. “And it’s legal. And in other countries, women can’t vote or drive just because they’re women. And kids like me get shot for playing outside at night. By the cops. And no one does anything about it because they don’t care.” 

“Really? And they don’t go to jail or anything?” 

Finn shakes his head. “There are kids out there who look like you and me and people do awful things to them. They get killed for being in the wrong places. And they get taken away from their parents and locked away in camps and taken away by bad people who do awful things to them.” 

Rose stays silent for a moment. Poe and Jannah, who’ve been playing not too far away suddenly stop and edge closer to where Finn is sitting. 

“Did you read that on the internet? Because my mom says you can’t always trust what’s on the internet,” Poe says. 

“You can’t lie on news sites, Poe. I read them on news sites. Like BBC and The Washington Post.” 

“That’s really bad,” Jannah says. “Someone should do something.” 

Finn stands. “The world is messed up,” he says. “No one cares about anyone else, if they don’t look the same or think the same or like the kind of people they think they should.” 

“That’s not true,” Rose says, “we don’t look the same and we like each other.” 

“Yeah, but what about everyone else?” Finn asks. “We get along but there are people all over the world who don’t care. And they think they’re right about it.” 

Finn swallows. He’s been feeling sick to his stomach all morning, ever since he read those articles, but there’s something else there now. Something like a sense of purpose. He can change things. He can feel it. Inside his bones, there is something new, something hot and sharp and angry, and ready to come out. 

“But we can fix it,” he finally says. 

“How?” Poe asks, “we’re just kids.” 

The ground beneath Finn’s feet feels different, humming and warm like a car engine, like something movable. It’s a feeling that surges up into him and back down all at the same time. The wind carries voices, now, hissing in his ear: 

_ You have power. _

_ You can do anything. _

_ Bring forth your kingdom. _

“My friends will help,” Finn says.

“We’re your friends,” Jannah says. 

“Not you guys, I’ve got other friends,” he says. “Really powerful friends. They’re going to help us restart the world.” 

“Where did you meet other friends?” Poe asks. 

“Restart the world?” Says Jannah. 

“What are you talking about?” Asks Rose. 

“You’ll see,” Finn says with a smile. A breeze starts to kick up and shake the leaves through the trees and Finn can feel, deep inside himself, the way it’s pulled and directed by the forces of the earth, the energy it carries with it. 

Rose, Jannah, and Poe share a look. 

“Finn, what are you talking about? I don’t think, whoever these friends of your are, can actually change the whole world suddenly,” says Rose. 

“‘Course not,” says Finn, “we’re just going to have to start over.” 

“Start over?” Asks Poe. 

“Yes. We’ll get rid of this world and make a new one. Where everyone has to be nice to each other and no more racism is allowed. Or sexism. Or homophobia. Or anything bad.” 

“You can’t just get rid of the world,” says Jannah. “You’re not like… a wizard or something.” 

_ Show her your power. _

_ Show the non-believer. _

“Oh yeah? Watch this,” Finn says. He’s never really tried it before, but he thinks very hard about how cool it would be to lift Jannah off her feet, and it happens. In a moment, Jannah is floating higher and higher, like her body is attached to balloons. 

Jannah screams. “Finn! What are you doing?” 

“Showing you what I can do,” Finn says. 

As the wind picks up, a hot bolt of power surges through Finn’s body like lightning. It doesn’t hurt, though it does make his hair stand on end and his teeth rattle together. 

“And this isn’t all,” Finn says, “I can… I can boil the seas if I wanted to. I could move mountains. We can remake the world, exactly how we want it and no one will ever be sad or hurt ever again!” 

“Finn, stop it, you’re scaring us!” Shouts Rose. 

“I want to go home!” Says Jannah. 

“What? No. You’re not going home. You’re going to stay here, with me. I’ll keep you all safe while the rest of the world goes away. If you leave you can’t be safe.” 

“Finn, you’re mental,” says Rose. 

_ Punish the non-believer. _

She takes a step backward and a tree root shoots out from the ground, wrapping around her ankle. 

“You’re going to stay here and we’re going to have a wonderful time,” he says. “You’ll see.” 

Below, the earth rumbles with the rattle of ten million sabers. 

_ It has begun. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 33 Being a hellhound, Baby would of course do whatever Finn asked of him, regardless of whether that involved charging into battle to tear out the throats of their enemies or sitting patiently in a bicycle basket. [return to text]  
34 The hellhound, of course has no idea what a tennis ball even is or why color or size is a necessary factor, given he could unhinge his jaw and devour men whole, but they are important to his master and therefore worth noting. Should he come across any “tennis balls” on the field of Armageddon, he will consider their color (which he can see, being not a dog at all) irrelevant.[return to text]  
35 If one were to try to describe it, however, one might say that it “looks kind of like a right-handed chicken was trying to translate Spanish into Hindi with it’s left hand while having a stroke and doing a samba. If one were to try to pronounce it, the sound made might be comparable to a tone deaf dolphin attempting a falsetto rendition of a lawnmower running over a blender.[return to text]  
36 Insects are always reincarnated as personal injury lawyers, because Hell is too good for them. [return to text]  
37 She isn’t, of course, but the laws of the multiverse mean that she’ll never know there was another angel in another universe who felt nothing but cold, sharp pain when faced with the choice between compliance and compassion. [return to text]  
38 Unused, of course. [return to text]  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised this chapter starts off with a pretty bad fire and assumed character death. Also, something that is vaguely (okay, not that vague) sexual occurs later in the chapter.

There’s fire and rescue on the street where Rey’s shop sits. Briefly, Ben curses the inconvenience. Whoever requires assistance is probably not going to make it through the impending destruction of the world anyway, and a cold, ugly part of himself considers making them forget the call and vanish so he can get to Rey quicker. 

Then he sees that they’re parked in front of the flower shop. 

“No,” Ben whispers to himself, pulling and even more half-assed parking job than usual before bolting from the car. 

“Sir, you can’t go in there!” Someone shouts. Ben pays no attention. 

The blinds have melted in uneven splotches, revealing the flames inside. Ben wills the doors open and steps into the inferno. 

“Rey!” He shouts, “Rey, where are you?” 

Death rises high in the air, licking at the ceiling alongside the flame. Rey’s flowers are all over the place, their petals and stems broken and scattered among the dirt and tile. The rubber mats have melted to the floor and stick to his shoes as he walks through the chaos. 

“Rey! Come on! Say something!” 

He can’t feel her. Her light, her divine essence, the thing that’s carried him to her across all of time has vanished. There’s no trace of her despite this being her home. She should be all over it even if she’s just in another part of town. 

“Where are you? I can’t find you!” 

Everything is burning. The air is ash and fire and death. 

“For God’s sake!” 

He hits his knees as the fire rages around him. An icy chill rushes through his core, like all that’s good has been ripped from him. It feels like falling. 

“She’s gone.” The breath leaves his lungs and he’s left gasping, everything inside him screaming. “She’s gone.” 

This is worse than falling, worse than losing God’s grace, worse than being ripped apart and distorted, worse than Hell and the boiling sulfur he was cast into. 

“You bitch!” He screams at the ceiling. “She believed in you! You could’ve protected her!” 

As always God does not answer. 

His eyes burn, whether from fire or tears he’s not sure. He’s not sure he cares either. 

The glass windows shatter behind him and a blast of water rips through the shop, toppling Ben over on his front. 

The flames die and he’s dragged bodily from the building, wrapped in a shock blanket and left in the back of an ambulance. With a wave of his hand, the paramedics are distracted and he walks off, back to the car. He drives on autopilot to crawl into a bottle and wait for The End. 

Who’s he kidding; The End’s already happened. 

\----

Rose starts crying. 

“Finn, this isn’t fun anymore,” she says. 

“I want to go home!” Jannah shouts. 

“Finn, this is getting really weird,” Poe says, “can you put her down?” 

Baby lets out a low growl and a sharp bark at Finn’s ankles. His friends are scared, that’s not a question, but they shouldn’t be. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Finn says, “we’re going to make the world better. And then we can do what we want with it. And no one can ever be mean over stupid things, like skin color or who likes who or where they like to pray ever again.” 

“And you’re going to blow up the world to do it?” Rose shrieks. 

Finn shrugs. “Yeah. The whole thing is broken. I don’t see why we can’t just start over. It’ll be better if we start over.” 

“What about my mom and dad?” Asks Poe. 

“And my sister?” Asks Rose. 

“And my cousins?” Asks Jannah. 

“I’ll make you new families,” Finn says. “I can do whatever I want now.” 

“I don’t want a new family!” One of the girls cries. 

“Why not? You could have ice cream for breakfast and biscuits for supper. And stay up as late as you want. You could do anything,” Finn says. 

“I don’t want to do anything, I just want to go home!” Says Jannah. 

_ They don’t like you. _ A voice whispers on the wind. 

_ They’re unworthy friends. _

_ They’re unworthy of your kingdom. _

_ They deserve nothing. _

“You don’t want to rule the world with me?” Finn asks. 

“No!” The other three shout in unison. 

_ They are unworthy. _

“Fine!” Finn shouts in a voice that isn’t entirely his own. “You can die with the rest of them!” 

Jannah falls to the ground, whimpering when she falls into the dirt. An unstoppable, impossible power roars through Finn’s body and he screams with it. He’s hot, his skin burning like fever, but it doesn’t hurt. 

“What is wrong with you!” Rose shouts, running to Jannah’s side. “I thought we were your friends.” 

“You don’t want to do this with me,” Finn says, “you don’t care. We’re not friends if you’re not going to do this with me.” 

“Fine, we don’t want to be friends with someone who hurts people,” Poe says. 

_ They are unworthy. _The voice rasps. 

Finn watches as they start to walk away. “I hurt you?” He finds himself saying. 

Jannah is in tears, her clothes covered in dirt and her jeans torn at the knees. She’s wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve while Rose helps her walk off with an arm around her waist. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Finn says. 

_ They deserve to be hurt. If they don’t submit, they deserve anything you give them. _

No! No, they don’t! Finn rushes towards his friends, but Poe steps in front of him. 

“No, Finn. We don’t want to talk to you right now.” 

“B-but I didn’t mean -” 

_ You don’t need them. _

“I’m sorry,” Finn says. 

Jannah’s lip quivers as he looks at her. 

“No, Finn,” Poe says. 

Baby barks, his little puppy voice louder and scarier than it’s ever been. He lunges towards Poe and Poe screams, tripping back over his own feet. 

“Baby! No! Don’t do that!” Finn says. 

The dog looks up at him, head tipped in question. The fire burning inside Finn whips into a fury, so hot he’s surprised he’s not bursting into flames. He’s so… angry all of the sudden. He’s angry about the way the world is, about every kid who’s ever called him a name for the way he looks or because he’s only got one mom, for all the kids around the world who are hurt and afraid. He could change it, though. He could destroy the world right now with a thought. Anyone who’s ever been mean, anyone who’s ever told him no, anyone who doesn’t want to go along with the plan. 

He could do the same to Poe, right now. Poe doesn’t want to follow his new plan.

But Poe’s his friend. He’s known Poe all his life. Poe’s a good friend. He doesn’t have to hurt him. 

Around him, the voices begin to chant: _ Do it! Do it! Do it! _

Finn looks at his friends and the tears rolling down their faces. They look scared. They look angry. Isn’t that what he’s wanted to avoid? Isn’t he… hurting people now? He’s hurting them, for sure. If he did decide to destroy the world, he’d be hurting more people, too. All the suffering kids, too. 

_ Do it! Do it! Do it! _

Finn takes hold of the power inside him, gathering it together like holding his breath. 

“No!” He shouts, as loud as he can, willing it to be quiet. He doesn’t want to hurt his friends, he doesn’t want to hurt strangers, and he doesn’t want to hear these awful voices anymore. 

When Finn opens his eyes he’s on the forest floor, his head aching. Poe is standing over him with a plank of wood in hand and Baby is sniffing his face. 

“Poe?” He asks. 

“Finn?” 

“I - I’m really sorry,” Finn says. “I… if you don’t want to be my friend anymore, that’s okay.” 

Poe and Rose share a look. 

“Are you still going to destroy the world?” Jannah asks. 

“I don’t want to anymore,” Finn says. “I - I’m sorry.” 

Poe drops the plank and holds a hand out to him. “It’s okay. Maybe you’re just hungry.” 

“We should get some ice cream,” Jannah says, “I could really use some ice cream right now.” 

The air current changes. There’s something in the air that’s still looming even though the wind has died down and the voices have gone quiet. 

“You guys can. I’ve got to go do something,” Finn says, he sprints back towards their bikes, which are parked behind their little fort. 

“Do what?” Rose asks, chasing after him. 

“I started something. And now I have to stop it,” Finn says. 

“You’re not doing it alone,” Poe says. 

“But I hurt you,” says Finn. 

Jannah rolls her eyes. “We said we forgive you, dummy. Besides, you can’t go on an adventure without us.” 

“You mean it?” Finn asks. 

“Duh,” says Rose. 

“Well, then, get your bikes. I’ll lead the way.” 

\----

It’s the eve of the Apocalypse. The antichrist has come into his full power, the horseperson’s are on their way to Tadfield, and the armies of Heaven and Hell are ready to break loose. 

And Ben is sitting in a bar in Soho, doing his best to drink himself into a coma before it all starts to collapse. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says to himself, “you have to know, I didn’t want this.” 

He’s been ranting for the better part of an hour, to himself, to the barkeeper, to God, to anything that moves around the bar. He’s talked about Heaven, about Falling, about ducks and wine and Liberace and tiny toasts smeared with roasted garlic. But always, his rantings come back to two things: 

“I just don’t know what I did. Why was it me? Why’d I get picked out? But it was… at least Rey was there. She didn’t deserve any of this, either.” 

“Ben drains yet another bottle of whiskey and signals to the bartender[39] to leave another. 

“Oh, Rey,” he sighs, staring off into the dark depths of the bar. He can still see her face, in his mind’s eye. And her smile. And her silly bun that always comes loose when she’s not paying attention. 

“Ben?” 

And now he can hear her voice. Well, at least he’s got that to hold on to at the end. 

“Ben? Are you there?” 

A strange bit of light flitters into view, almost invisible, like dust motes in sunlight. He lifts his glasses off his face, squinting in the dark. There, sitting across the table from him is a vision of Rey. 

“Rey? Is that you? Are you here?” He asks. 

“I think so? Where are you?” 

“Can you see my surroundings?” He asks. “I can’t see yours. Just you.” 

“I… don’t think I have surroundings,” Rey says, looking left and right vacantly. “I’ve been discorporated.” 

“Oh,” Ben says. So not dead, then. That’s good. That’s… way less dramatic. He swallows, thankful she can’t see the three empty bottles on the table in front of him. 

“Yeah,” Rey says. “Did you… did you go to the stars?” 

“No,” Ben says, “couldn’t. I lost you. The flower shop - Rey, I’m sorry. I went to find you but it - I thought you’d sprung the trap I gave you. Or Heaven had found you and -” 

Rey smiles, soft and sad, unrestrained now that she doesn’t have to know he can see it. “It’s okay,” she says. “Where are you now?” 

“London, still,” he says. “I couldn’t…” 

Rey swallows, squaring her shoulders and looking intently to Ben’s left. “That’s okay. That’s good. We can still make it to Tadfield. Or, you can make it to Tadfield. I’m going to have to find a receptive body.” 

“Receptive body?” 

“Because I’ve been discorporated.” 

“Use me,” Ben says, without thinking about the words that have just fallen out of his mouth and the consequences of having an angel, _ this angel_, literally inside his body. 

“I can’t - Ben, we could explode.” 

“So what? World’s about to end anyway. If we explode, we both have to find new bodies,” he says because he’s an idiot who still can’t think about the things that are coming out of his mouth. 

“Are you - are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Ben says. “Just try it. I’m right here.” He reaches out, opening himself up to her. It’s not hard, all he has to do is let himself hope, one last time. 

Rey gasps, her eyes finding his immediately like she can actually see him. She reaches out a shaky hand and he returns it, their fingertips brushing for one second before he’s overwhelmed with her presence. It’s like hitting a brick wall face-first, falling backward into a pit of sand, and having an anvil dropped on his head all at once. She’s everywhere, all at once, her light tangling with his darkness rolling and coiling over him as he seeks to do the same. It burns, just a little, as the harsh edges of her holiness sear against his corruption, but as soon as it starts it ends and gives way to something much, much different. 

Ben shudders, his whole body breaking out into goosebumps as he loses control of his limbs. It’s hot and cold and tingly, like electricity as the two beings brush and meld together inside one corporation. She is inside him, not just in his body, but his _being_, and he, in turn, is inside her. It’s like… there’s nothing. No human words and certainly none in demonic could describe the soul-rending bliss that blows through him and leaves him a puddle of flesh under the bar table. 

“Holy shit,” he says. 

He’s panting but unexploded. 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Rey says, in her own voice with his lips. 

“Yeah, me either.” 

His arms and legs are shaking as he picks himself up off the ground. He’s really glad he’s chosen not to… make an Effort[40] below the waist or this might’ve been a much more humiliating experience[41] . Ben’s legs wobble, both from the experience and the alcohol in his system. 

“Could you at least try to walk a little straighter?” Rey asks. 

“If you don’t like it, you do it,” he says. 

And she does. Somehow. Before he knows it, Ben is the passenger in his own body as Rey directs their movements towards the door, still wobbling on his feet, knees threatening to give out at every step. 

“How much did you have to drink?” Rey asks. 

“Not that much,” Ben says. Technically, this is true. A demon can imbibe a lot of alcohol before it begins to impair their functions. By human standards, however, it was a lot. 

“Why are your legs like pudding, then?” She asks.

“I’m a snake, remember,” he says. Which is true, in a way. Getting used to legs was a challenge at first, but he eventually got the hang of it around the 5th century. It would be more accurate to say that his legs are pudding because he just metaphysically tangled with an angel, but that’s a bit embarrassing to admit. 

Rey slips out the door and slides them both into the passenger seat, Ben hands folded in his lap as they wait. Ben chuckles but doesn’t comment. It takes Rey about thirty full seconds before she realizes that she needs to scoot across the seat. 

“I can’t drive this,” Rey says, fluttering Ben’s hands over the steering wheel like she’s afraid it’s going to bite her. 

“I’ve got it,” Ben says, gently wrestling control of his hands back, “just no backseat driving,” he says. 

“Don’t drive like a lunatic and I won’t,” Rey says. 

Ben rolls his eyes and peels out into the street, heedless of the traffic. Rey clenches but doesn’t attempt to jerk the wheel or slam the break, by some small miracle. 

“Just get us there in one piece,” she whispers. 

“Like I’d do anything else.” 

\----

They had been making good time until they hit the M25. 

“Where the Hell is everyone going?” Rey asks. “It’s not like they really have anywhere they need to be right now.” 

“They don’t know it’s the apocalypse,” Ben says. “They’re just doing what they usually do.” 

“Well, they need to move,” Rey says. “We don’t have time for traffic.” 

Ben sighs, looking for an opening beside him. Of course, there isn’t one. All the cars on the motorway are at a standstill and from the look of it that won’t be changing anytime soon. Not that that’s unusual. It’s perfectly in line with the way the cursed thing was designed. And Ben would know; he did it. 

“Well, unless you want to part the sea of cars we’re just going to have to wait. Or get out and walk but that’s really not going to help us, is it?” Ben says. 

“Just take the shoulder,” Rey says. 

“Break the law? You want to break the law? It really must be the end of the world,” Ben says, smirking as he starts to pull off towards the emergency lane. 

“Oh shut up. This is an extenuating circumstance,” she says. 

It’s no sooner than they start to creep past the cars around them than the sun above turns a deep, foreboding red and the gathering storm clouds start to rumble and churn. A streak of lightning breaks the sky and it begins to hail in the full light of day. Several fist-sized chunks of ice crash into the roof of the car. Ben growls, hopefully threatening enough that nothing dents or scratches the paint job. But then one of the chunks of ice that’s rolled off of his roof slides down the windshield… and wiggles. 

“Is that a minnow?” Rey asks.

Ben squints at the little fish jumping around on the blade of his windshield wiper. “I… think so?” He doesn’t really know fish, but it’s not like the specific species really matters now, is it? 

They both jump as a much larger, grey-blue fish falls from the sky and slams down on the bonnet of the car, gasping and flopping in front of them. 

“Well, looks like walking is out,” Ben says. 

“Unless you’ve got a lead umbrella in the back,” says Rey. 

“Why on earth would I have a -” 

Ben’s cut off when a sudden, massive wall of fire bursts to life in front of them, on the strip of highway they need to cross to get out of London. He slams the breaks, watching as the wall climbs higher, flames whipping at the air like desperate hands reaching for the sky. 

“Oh shit,” Ben says. 

“Ben…” Rey’s voice is small and much too quiet. “Ben, that’s Hellfire.” 

Ben swallows. Or maybe it was Rey. Maybe it was both of them. But regardless of who did it, the knot that’s currently lodged in Ben’s throat doesn’t move out of the way for it. If anything, it makes the tightness in his throat increase as they both stare at the ring of fire that’s now trapped the two of them on the road. 

“Yeah, that’s…” Ben trails off, running a hand through his hair. 

“Why is there Hellfire?! Now of all the times?” Her voice is shrill with near hysteria. Not like he can really blame here, though. He wouldn’t be exactly calm if there was a moat of holy water anywhere near him, let alone trapping him somewhere. 

“Probably my fault,” Ben says. 

“Your fault! What did you do?!” 

“Look, I didn’t know that designing a motorway to look like an ancient Satanic symbol would cause it to burst into flame, okay! I just thought it would piss people off. Which it has. This is the first time it’s done something like this,” Ben says. 

“Now! Of all times!” Rey shrieks, slamming Ben’s hand against the steering wheel. It hurts enough that he winces, but she doesn’t react. “We’re fucked. We’re just fucked. The whole damn world is going to end now.” 

Ben stops to consider the wall of damnation before him. Really, it’s either stay here and wait for it to end or take a chance, no matter how insane it might actually be. 

“Well… we can still drive through it,” Ben says. 

“You actually are insane, aren’t you. I will _die, _ Ben. For real this time. Not just discorporated, dead.” 

This time, Ben knows for sure it’s him who gulps. “Do you trust me?” He asks. 

“Trust you with what? To not get me killed? Because that’s what’s going to happen if we drive into that mess,” she says, gesticulating wildly at the blaze and smacking Ben’s hand against the wheel again. 

“Just… get as small as you can. I’ll wrap you up and you won’t have to worry about it. As long as I’m taking the brunt of it you’ll be fine,” he says. 

“Won’t it burn you?” Rey asks. 

“Hellfire? Nah. I eat the stuff for breakfast.” 

“No, I meant, well, me. It can’t be pleasant to have that much holiness rubbing up against you.” 

Ben swears under his breath and Rey squirms in their seat. It does burn, that he can’t lie about, but unpleasant isn’t the word he’d use for it. But Rey can’t really know that. It’s not her fault he gets off on it, but it’s really the only way to make sure they both make it to the other side of the motorway. He’ll just… deal with it. He has to because he has to protect her. 

“Rey, it doesn’t matter what it’s like for me. This is the only shot we have.” 

Rey’s breath shudders out of his lungs. “Are you sure you can do that?” 

“Yes,” Ben says. 

“Then I trust you,” she says. 

Rey shifts, getting as small as possible inside Ben’s chest. The process of which is fairly abstract. While angels, fallen or no, generally disregard standard laws of physics, there are laws of metaphysics they are still bound to. While it’s entirely possible for an angel or a demon to get subatomic in their own bodies, the process of sharing a body can make it weird. Their true forms aren’t human in the slightest and frankly beyond description[42]. The process of enveloping another angel is less like putting a coin in your pocket and more like trying to squeeze your whole body into a sweater; it really depends on the sweater. 

Luckily for Rey, Ben is a very cozy, oversized sweater that she can pull over her knees and tuck her face into. 

“I’ve got you,” Ben whispers as he puts his foot back on the gas pedal. 

Inside, he can feel her apprehension, but also her trust, her relief, and a small note of amusement. He has no idea if she can feel him, too, but he hopes she does. He hopes she knows he’s going to take care of her, even if it kills him. 

Other drivers on the motorway gawk as Ben passes on the shoulder, breathing slow and even. He’s going to make it through that fire and Rey will be fine, so help him Go - so help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 39 The bartender, a former nun named Maz, would usually have cut him off at least a bottle ago, but a little demonic miracle has impared her judgement.  
[return to text]  
40 Effort, in this instance, means penis. Or vulva. Or hemipenes. Or tentacles. Or any kind of intersex genitalia. Or really anything an adventurous fanfic writer might decide would make for good smut. This is because angels are generally sexless unless they make an effort, and fandom loves a good euphemism.  
[return to text]  
41 Not that falling out of one’s chair in the middle of the bar is exactly dignified.[return to text]  
42 One might say they were ineffable, if one were a cheeky fanfic writer, perhaps. [return to text]  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So I've finally figured out the spotify thing! (Finally lol) This is the [link](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ).

There is an airbase not too far from Tadfield, between the little village and the ruins of a Satanic convent that has since been abandoned. In another life, it would be inhabited by a few dozen American soldiers, maintaining the property for what they don’t know would eventually be Armageddon. In that lifetime, they would have functioning computer systems that could and would trigger nuclear destruction across the entire planet. That lifetime would require, of course, someone to make sure there is no way the computers would be able to function after a certain point. This is not that lifetime, however. 

In this lifetime, the airbase is largely abandoned and overgrown, thanks to the efforts of one Kanan Jarrus, who made it a priority to reduce American military presence across the globe. He was successful and the disestablishment of just two bases, one outside Tadfield, and one in the heart of what used to be West Berlin. He considered it a failing, but he will never know how much of a success it truly is. He probably won’t remember this day, as it is, because after taking his wife and child to the fields of Megido and witnessing the complete and total meltdown of the demon Snoke when his son didn’t start Armageddon he was promptly knocked out, along with his wife and child, and the three were stuck in the back of a secret service van and driven back to the airport. 

While Jacen Syndulla might not be the antichrist Finn Tano is, and he’s made it to this abandoned vestige of American Imperialism with his three closest friends to stand face-to-face with the Four Horesperson’s of the Apocalypse. 

The kids park their bikes at the side of an old steel aircraft container, next to the four motorcycles of the inhuman riders. The air is thick with moisture, more like a sweat than a coming rain as the wind shudders around the group of eight. Death, Famine, War, and Pollution, Finn, Jannah, Rose, and Poe stand in silence, waiting. 

“So,” Poe says, “who talks first?” 

* * *

There are plenty of things that could be said about Ben Solo, not all of them very nice. He’s been called an asshole, a monster, and a sarcastic dick with terrible taste in white wine[43]. Those are accurate, in some fashion or another, but it can’t ever be said that Ben Solo is not a stubborn bastard. 

He’s currently demonstrating just how much of a stubborn bastard he can be, driving the flaming wreck of a car down the road into Tadfield while cradling his truest and oldest friend deep inside him, so she won’t die instantly. 

“Where is this even supposed to happen?” Ben asks. As far as he can tell, there’s nothing out of the ordinary in Tadfield, other than the blood-red sun, of course. 

_ How am I supposed to know? _Rey responds. She’s taken to keeping as far away from controlling their shared body as possible since the car started to catch fire. 

“Well, I figured you might know,” Ben says. 

_ Again, how? I haven’t seen the kids since before Finn’s birthday. And it’s not like anyone predicted the end of the world would be in England, of all places. We’re supposed to be in Jordan right now. _

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I get it,” Ben says. 

He slows the car to a crawl as they both spot Mr. Kenobi, walking his dog Dutchess down the road. 

_ I bet it’s wherever Finn is. _ Says Rey. _ You should ask Obi-wan if he’s seen them. _

So Ben does just that. 

“‘Scuse me,” he says, rolling down the car window. It shatters as soon as he does it. “Have you seen Finn and the kids around here recently?” 

Obi-wan stares at the car for a moment, mouth flapping not unlike the fish on the roof of the car used to before it was flame-broiled. Dutchess whines at his feet. 

“I - yeah I did, I think. ‘Bout half an hour back.” 

“Did you happen to see where they were going?” Ben asks. 

“Down the road, that aways,” he says, pointing to the left. “No idea where they were going but they went in a hurry.” 

“Thanks,” Ben says, cranking the window like it’s going to do anything. 

“Ben?” Obi-wan asks. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you aware your car is literally on fire right now?” 

“No, hadn’t noticed,” Ben says, pulling away much too fast to be safe on the dirt roads. 

“How haven’t you noticed that!” Obi-wan shouts after him, but it’s too late. Ben’s already out of earshot and racing down the road, eyes open for any sign of the kids or bike tracks. 

_ Ben - _

“Yeah, Rey?” 

_ What are we going to do when we get to Finn? _

“We’re gonna talk to him,” Ben says. 

_ And if that doesn’t work? _

“It’s going to work.” 

_ Ben, it’s already started. We ran over a dozen trout on our way here. Your car is on fire. I don’t think we did a good enough job trying to influence him. _

Ben swallows. It’s not something he really wants to think about right now, but if there’s any time to think about it, it’s probably right this minute - if not at least six months ago. 

“If it comes down to it and we don’t have any other choice -” 

_ Ben - _

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few… or the one,” Ben says. 

_ You’re not expecting me to… to do that, are you? _

“I don’t know, Rey. One of us is going to have to do it.” 

_ I don’t like this_. 

Ben doesn’t, either. 

* * *

“You? You’re the Great Beast That is Called Dragon?” Asks War, raising her sword, her very on fire sword, to Finn’s chest. 

“Actually, his name is Finn,” says Jannah. 

“Yeah, my name is Finn,” Finn says, “and I think it’s time for you to go now,” he says. 

War, Famine, and Pollution laugh. 

“Oh, no,” says Famine, “we’re not going anywhere. The End Times have started, and once it’s started it cannot be stopped.” 

“Who says?” Finn asks. 

“I-it, it just is,” Famine says. 

“This is the way things are,” says Pollution, their clouded glass eyes staring up, unseeing. 

“But why? Why does the world have to end right now? And why do you four get any say in it?” Finn asks. 

“Yeah, why do you guys get any say?” Rose asks. 

“Do not talk back to us, little girl,” says War. “You shouldn’t even be here. These are matters that do not concern you.” 

“I think it concerns her just as much as it does anyone else,” says Poe. “We live on the planet, too. Shouldn’t we get a say?” 

“No one gets a say,” says Death, finally. “The End Times are upon us. Your very existence necessitates it,” he says, the impression of dark, harrowing eyes lingering down at Finn. Finn gulps. 

“But I didn’t ask to be born,” Finn says. 

Someone else starts speaking, but a sudden screech of tires draws their attention away and back to the rusted out gates of the airbase. There, careening towards the eight of them, is Mr. Solo’s car, completely engulfed in flames. The car comes to a clumsy stop and Mr. Solo steps out, wobbling on his legs, covered in soot, and smelling like a fireplace. 

“Finn!” It’s not his voice that comes out of his mouth, though. It’s Mrs. Solo’s. “Finn, stop, please! Don’t do this.” 

“Finn -” it’s definitely Mr. Solo’s voice coming out this time, “we can talk about this. You don’t need to end the world.” 

“I don’t want to end the world,” Finn says. 

“You don’t?” Asks Mrs. Solo. 

“Thank fuck!” Says Mr. Solo. 

At this point, the car, which had still been on fire, makes a terrible clunking noise before the whole thing explodes in a blast of fire and metal, pieces of metal and rubber flying in every direction. Mr. Solo hits his knees and lets out such an awful noise that Finn’s worried he’s been hit with something. 

“My car!” He shouts. 

“Ben! Are you kidding me right now?” Mrs. Solo yells. His body jerks back by the shoulders, but he doesn’t get up. He just stays there, staring at the burning rumble. “Ben, get up!” 

“I’m having a moment, Rey!” 

His body rocks back and forth in an awkward jerking motion. He almost looks like those possessed people in movies. Actually… 

Finn looks a little closer, finding that he can see both Mr. and Mrs. Solo sharing the same body. It’s sort of like looking at a photo that’s been overlaid over something else, like those awful memes Poe shows him sometimes[44] but somehow worse. Finn doesn’t like it. 

“Why are you guys in the same body?” Finn asks. 

“What?” Rey asks, jerking Ben’s head towards the children. “Oh, long story. I was discorporated.” 

“You’re what?” Rose asks. 

It’s creepy to look at, so Finn separates the two with a thought, putting Rey back in her own body, kneeling on the ground next to Ben. They both shudder, and it seems like enough to pull Ben’s attention away from the flaming remains of his car. 

“Finn!” Rey says, standing up on wobbling legs. Ben catches her before she can fall and break a heel. “Finn, we’re so glad to see you.” 

Ben rises to his feet as War steps forward, flaming sword in hand. 

“This has gone on long enough,” War says. “It’s time for this to come to an end.” 

“He said he didn’t want to,” says Rose, “why can’t you people take a hint?” 

War laughs, her voice thick and cruel. “A battleground is no place for little girls like you.” 

“You’re not the boss of me,” says Rose. 

“I am War,” says War, “I am the boss of everyone. You were made to serve me, all generations. You were made to live under me and to die in me. Your conquest and your hatred is my lifeblood.” 

Rose walks up, standing as tall as her small frame will allow and looks War right in the eyes. “I don’t believe in hate. I believe in love and in peace.” 

“Peace is a lie.” 

“Is not,” says Rose. 

War scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Yes, it is.” 

It only takes that moment of distraction for Rose to strike, stomping as hard as she can on War’s slick red boot. War shouts, hopping up on one foot and dropping the sword to the ground. Rose stoops down and takes it in hand, driving it into War’s stomach lightning quick. 

“Is not,” Rose says with a smile as War cries out and becomes nothing more than a pile of flame and ash. Startled, Rose drops the sword. 

Famine, this time, attempts to pick up the sword. Jannah beats him to it. She, in turn, dispatches Famine, and Poe ends Pollution before the sword is dropped. It flickers out as Finn stares up at Death as he remains, unmoving, and impassive. 

“I can’t kill you, can I?” Asks Finn. 

“No. As long as there is life, there must be death. To kill me would be to kill the universe.” 

Finn nods in understanding. “So what do we do?” 

Death looks past him, to Mr. and Mrs. Solo, who’ve been standing silent as the events unfold. “We’ll be seeing each other soon,” he says. And for a moment, the sky darkens to midnight as Death opens wings of smoke and shadow and vanishes into the blackness. 

For a moment, no one says anything. 

“Is it over?” Poe asks. 

On queue, lighting splits the clearing sky, racing up from the earth like angry vines. 

“Kids, get out of the way,” Mrs. Solo shouts, shepherding the children towards the sheltered side of an abandoned bunker. 

“What’s going on?” Jannah asks. 

“Someone told his father,” Mr. Solo says, eyes wide and more snake than human. 

“But I don’t have a father,” Finn says. 

Mrs. Solo grabs the sword from off the ground, shooing him towards the other kids. “You do, unfortunately. Satan.” 

“Satan?” Gasps Poe. “Like the Devil, Satan?” 

“Like I said, unfortunate.” 

“What’s he going to do?” Rose asks. 

“Kill us all probably,” says Mr. Solo, plucking a charred tire iron off the ground. “Rey and I will buy you some time but you have to run or hide or both.” 

“Why does he want to kill us? We haven’t done anything?” Shrieks Rose. 

“No, he can’t do that! I won’t let him!” Finn says, clenching his fists. 

“Finn, please -” Mrs. Solo starts. 

“No! I just saved the world! I don’t want to see it destroyed.” 

The ground trembles and blue lightning rips up through the Earth. 

“Just go!” Mrs. Solo shouts, shoving Finn in the direction of his friends. He stumbles over his shoes but Poe catches him. The children freeze, watching as the ground erupts, dirt and rocks sputtering like a volcano. 

“It was nice knowing you,” Mrs. Solo says, extending the hand not holding a sword. Mr. Solo grabs on tight as they both ready their weapons. 

“WHERE IS HE?” A hiss creeps through the soil like a noxious gas. “WHERE IS MY SON?” 

Satan, the Devil himself, rises from the pit in a cloud of smoke and lightning. He… looks nothing like Finn imagined. For one, he’s not even red, he looks more like a shriveled old toe than anything. And he doesn’t even have horns. He just looks like an angry old man. 

Finn rights himself and takes a step out from the shelter of the bunker, shaking off the hands of his friends, Baby hot on his heels. 

“I’m right here,” he says, staring up at Satan himself. 

“There you are, my boy,” he says in a voice reminiscent of someone who’s smoked cigarettes since they were three. 

“Finn!” Mrs. Solo whisper-shouts, “what are you doing?” 

“Get out of here!” Mr. Solo hisses. 

“I’m right here,” Finn says, throwing out his arms. He can feel Mr. and Mrs. Solo panicking behind him, but he’s not afraid. Maybe he should be, but looking up at the man who claims to be his father, all he feels is anger. Anger because he just tried to save the world and here this guy is trying to ruin it again. Anger because his friends are scared. Anger because, if this man is his dad, he just decided to show up now to yell at him. 

The tremors quiet and the lightning stops. The air is dead quiet, like three in the morning in the middle of winter. 

“My, what a fine young man you’ve turned out to be,” says Satan. 

“I won’t let you hurt my friends,” says Finn, clenching his fists. 

“Oh, I would never,” says Satan. “I have no interest in them.” 

“You want to destroy the world. You hate the world,” Finn says, a little startled. 

“Now, whoever gave you that idea, child?” Satan says. 

“Uh… I thought… I thought that was the whole point?” 

“No, my boy,” says Satan, “I would never hate what is of so little importance.” 

“But - you. I was -” 

“Finn, my son, this world is of no consequence. My aims are for the world yet to come,” says Satan, unfolding long, bony hands. “A better world. One designed with care and attention.” 

“So you… don’t want to destroy the world?” Finn asks, utterly bewildered. 

“Oh, no, that is the natural consequence of the thing, isn’t it? There can be no creation without destruction. But what we can do - what you can do - will be so much better. Together, my son, we will build a new world, one free of all the ills you so desperately despise.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s lying!” Mr. Solo shouts. 

Satan’s eyes flash red and Mr. Solo hits the ground, crying out and clutching his side. 

“Ben!” Rey shouts. He waves her off, hissing as he falls prostrate on the tarmac. She releases his hand and raises her sword, only to drop it and collapse. 

“No!” Finn shouts. “Stop it! You’re hurting them!” Beside him, Baby starts to growl. 

Satan’s red eyes bore into Finn chilling him to the bone. “Why do you care?” 

“They’re my friends,” Finn says. 

“How sweet,” Satan says, rolling his wrists. Mr. and Mrs. Solo make awful sobbing sounds behind him. “They’re not your friends,” Satan says. 

Before Finn’s eyes a scene ripples to life, like a mirage in the desert, before him, he sees Mr. Solo offering an apple to a woman, Mrs. Solo handing a knife to an old man, a young man striking his brother, men draped in crosses bringing their swords on screaming women, people burning at stakes and the shadows of people left after a mushroom cloud. 

“All evil in this world comes from their hands. They’ve been here since the beginning, and they’ve done nothing but cause pain and misery,” says Satan. 

Finn now sees a young boy, who looks almost like him, dying in the street. Now a girl who looks like Rose crying on camera. A boy who could be Poe being ripped from his father’s arms. Kids that look like him and Jannah in fields of sugar cane, women with bruises blotting their faces, men who look like skeletons dying on hospital steps. He cannot bear to see more. He looks away, over his shoulder to Mr. and Mrs. Solo as they writhe on the ground.

“You didn’t cause all that, did you, Mr. and Mrs. Solo?” Finn asks, swallowing hard. 

“Fff-inn,” Mr. Solo gasps, looking up at him with scared, wet eyes. 

“If they didn’t cause it they’re just as responsible for doing nothing,” says Satan, “but they’ve done a lot more than you can dream.” 

“No,” whimpers Mrs. Solo. 

“It’s not fair, what’s been done to the humans. They’re God's favorites, are they not? Yet they’re allowed to suffer and die. They’re allowed to torture each other.” Behind him, Finn hears the crying and screaming of generations. “No such thing would happen in our world. There would be no more bigotry. No one would die for the color of their skin or the language they speak. Join me, my child, and we will remake the world in our own image. We can do better.” 

Finn looks past Mr. Solo’s eyes and into his soul. In an instant, the screaming stops and he sees the world through a different lens. He sees Eve take the apple, and he sees Rey give her sword to Adam. He sees a girl cured of smallpox by Mr. Solo’s hand. He sees the horrors of war through Mrs. Solo’s eyes as she bandages a bleeding limb. And he sees more: manuscripts protected and preserved in monasteries, artistic gifts nurtured and blessed, children hidden under tarps between oil barrels and hurried across borders, cellars protected from bombs. There are other things, of course. Sad things. Memories tinted with alcohol and blurred with tears, fear, and pain, but there are just as many good things as there are bad. 

The anger that had receded from Finn wells up again. He’s angry about what Satan has shown him, without a doubt, but there’s something else there, too. He sees the missives, the orders Mr. and Mrs. Solo are told to follow. He hears their voices and the complaining, the defeat in realizing it’s all a wash, the disbelief when they conclude neither of them has done something bad. They might not be innocent, but humanity has done just as much on its own. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they were forced to be better. 

“That’s it,” says Satan, “let the hate flow through you. Fulfill your destiny.” 

Finn looks back over at Jannah and Rose and Poe. He knows at once what he’s going to do. 

“Stop hurting them,” Finn says, gritting his teeth. The wind picks up, carrying with it the crackle of electricity. “Let them go and I’ll fulfill my destiny.” 

“Finn, no!” Poe shouts from across the way. Baby whimpers. 

“I’ll do it, but you need to stop hurting them right now.” 

Satan smiles and Mr. and Mrs. Solo gasp for breath behind him. Finn looks over his shoulder at the two of them. 

“What are you doing?” Mr. Solo whispers. 

“Trust me,” Finn says. 

Mrs. Solo looks to her sword, then to Finn. She nods. 

“Now get up,” Finn says, willing them to rise to their feet. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mrs. Solo whispers. 

Finn swallows. He does, too. 

“We trust you. We’re right here, no matter what,” says Mrs. Solo, taking Mr. Solo’s hand once more. 

Finn takes a deep breath and looks back at Satan’s awful, snarling grin. “This world is messed up,” he says, taking a step forward. 

“Yes,” hisses Satan. 

“It’s bad for everyone, but it’s really bad for people who aren’t exactly the way whoever’s in charge says they should be.” 

The gathering storm rages in the distance, spitting fire from the sky. 

“Yes, my boy.” 

“And that’s wrong. It’s evil to decide people who don’t do what you want them to deserve to be hurt or killed. And I won’t be that person!” Finn shouts. 

“What?!” Satan snarls, throwing his hands down on the ground. Finn wobbles and nearly falls over, but stays standing. 

“Humanity has done a lot of bad things. People do a lot of bad things. But the answer isn’t to force everyone to do what you say. You can’t force people to stop hating each other. If I decide to hurt people, I’m no better than the thing I wanted to stop in the first place.” 

“You INSOLENT LITTLE BASTARD!” Satan snarls. His eyes blaze red and lightning ripples beneath his skin. 

Finn takes a step backward. He wants to cry and throw up. He’s angry and tired and more scared than he’s ever been and all he wants to do is go home. 

“You can do it, Finn,” Mrs. Solo says over the wind. 

“We’re right here,” says Mr. Solo, “you’re not alone.” 

Finn looks over his shoulders, finding Mr. and Mrs. Solo have kept pace with him, standing just behind. 

“I’m not going to be the kind of person who hurts others, even if I don’t agree with them. Even if they might deserve it.” 

Satan roars. His hands change, turning to talons where they dig into the soil. The wrinkles in his face start to sag away, like rotting flesh. 

“I don’t believe the world gets better when we’re meaner and I want a better world. But I’m not going to do that by fighting what I hate, I’m going to do that by saving what I love,” Finn says. 

“THEN YOU WILL DIE!” Howls Satan. 

“No, you will. And every other evil old man who wants to rule the world. I’m going to fulfill my destiny and my destiny is to help people. I don’t need you, you, you… creepy old testicle!” 

Satan lunges forward but falls flat on his face. His talons turn back into fingers, and the light under his skin recedes. 

“What? What have you done to me?” He hisses, his body rapidly becoming smaller, frailer, more like a human. 

“You’re nothing,” says Finn. “You’re not some all-powerful ruler. You’re just an old man who’s not very nice.” 

Satan cries out, his body starting to ripple and convulse until there’s a sudden bang. Finn raises an arm to shield his eyes, only to find it blocked by a curtain of black and white feathers. The air settles back down, the storms in the distance clearing just as soon as they sprang up. Somewhere in the distance, birds are chirping, and the world breathes a sigh of relief. 

Finn brushes the feathers away, finding Mr. and Mrs. Solo at his side, each offering a wing to shield him from the explosion. 

“What happened?” Finn asks, blinking at the sunlight and the… confetti scattered on the ground where the massive hole used to be. 

“You exploded Satan himself,” says Mrs. Solo. 

“Into confetti,” says Mr. Solo. 

“I-I did?” 

“Hell yeah, you did you brilliant little boy, you,” says Mr. Solo as he lifts Finn off the ground, covering his little face in kisses. 

“You saved the world,” says Mrs. Solo as she joins in on the hugging. 

“I did?” 

“Finn?” Poe calls from behind the bunker, “is it over? Is it safe to come out now?” 

“Yeah!” Finn shouts. “We’re safe. It’s over!” He laughs, loud and clear as Mr. Solo sets him down and lets his friends start up a group hug. 

“Is it really over?” Rey asks Ben, eyeing the happy children as they laugh and excitedly share their favorite parts of the whole adventure. To them, this will probably be the greatest fun they’ve ever had. 

“For them. They’ll be fine. I don’t -” Ben clears his throat, “let’s get back to Tadfield.” 

Rey turns her attention back to witness Rose excitedly kiss Jannah on the mouth, leaving them both a little bewildered and blushing. Yeah, they’ll be fine. 

* * *

Rey and Ben walk the kids and their bikes back home, saying a sweet goodbye as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. While the kids had continued their rundown of the day, laughing and giggling and embellishing already, Rey and Ben remained silent. She’s no mind reader, but Rey would put every penny she’s ever conjured on what she knows to be Ben’s thoughts. 

They settle into jasmine cottage in silence, not bothering to turn on the lights. Rey puts a kettle on the human way and settles into the kitchen table, holding an empty mug in her hands. She almost can’t believe it. Actually, she really can’t believe it. They managed to save the world. Or, Finn did. She and Ben… well, they helped. Kind of. In the end, it had been one little boy and his friends who managed to save all of creation. Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re not going to get the blame for it. 

Rey startles as Ben pours hot water into her mug. She hadn’t even heard him come into the kitchen, or the kettle start to whistle. How long had she been staring out into space? 

“Thank you,” she says. 

Ben doesn’t say anything, he just sits down across with his hands folded in front of him while she lets a tea bag steep. 

There are a thousand things she wants to say, a million more she wants to do, but nothing comes out of her mouth. What do you say after the end of the world doesn’t happen? What do you even begin to think? She feels like she’s lived a hundred years just this week with everything that’s gone on. She’s been discorporated and re-incorporated in a day. She was inside of Ben’s body. She faced down Satan himself and put herself at the mercy of a single human and somehow it came out okay. It might be a miracle, but she knows how those tend to work. 

“Do you think She planned it this way?” Ben asks, apropos of nothing. 

“Who, God?” Rey asks. 

“Yeah.” 

Rey shrugs, lifting the teabag out of her mug and letting it slow to a drip before leaving it on the table. “I wouldn’t put it past Her. Maybe She did.” 

“All of it?” Ben asks. “Not just Finn but… us, too?” 

Rey catches his gaze. He hasn’t been wearing his glasses since they rode into the Hellfire ring around the motorway and the wide yellows of his eyes have only just begun to recede. He’s by no means relaxed, but he’s less stressed for sure. 

“I - if She planned for Finn not to destroy the world than I’d have to say yes[45].” 

Ben sighs, his shoulders dropping as if unburdened by a sudden weight. “I’m glad then,” Ben says. “I’m glad if it was anyone I had to stop the apocalypse with, it was you.” 

Rey reaches out and sets a hand on his. “Me, too.” 

Ben offers a shaky smile. “Heaven and Hell… they’re not going to be very happy about this.” 

Rey tightens her grip on his hand. “No, I can’t imagine they will be.” 

“They’re going to kill us,” he says. 

Rey’s stomach lurches. She licks her lips, searching for something to say. She sighs when no words come. 

“Ben, I -” 

“Rey,” Ben interrupts, reaching up with the hand she isn’t holding to draw her closer until they’re both leaning over the table, forehead to forehead. “I know.” 

Rey’s laugh is a hollow, sad thing. “You always know me better than I know myself, it seems.” 

“Nah,” Ben says. His breath is sweet against her lips, even if the rest of him smells like singed hair and melted rubber. 

“But you do. You always knew me better than anyone. You’ve always been there for me. More than Heaven and now I - I wish I’d - if there were more time if we hadn’t wasted it -” 

“Shhh,” Ben coos. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We have tonight.” 

“But it’s not -” 

“Tonight will be enough,” Ben says with a wobbly smile and wet eyes. 

Rey closes her eyes and lets herself feel it all. The anger, the frustration, the grief, and the bittersweet love. It aches in her chest like a blade, to yearn for what you can have right at your fingertips, even if it’s only for a night. 

“Tonight will be enough,” she repeats. 

* * *

The night comes and goes. In the morning light, the radio announces that the previous day’s events were the result of a mass hallucination. Rey makes coffee. The Bently, which was a fiery wreck, now sits in the drive as good as the day Ben bought it. Rey has half a mind to go into London, just to see if the flower shop is standing once more, but she doesn’t dare leave Ben. Not now. With their luck, they’ll be separated when it happens and Rey doesn’t want that. She can’t bear it. Rey drinks a whole pot of coffee by herself. 

Ben has scarcely said a word since the dawn. They both know they don’t want their last words to each other to be something stupid. They should be something poetic. Something to hold on to as they’re extinguished. She can’t find the words, and obviously Ben can’t either. 

Rey makes the mistake of speaking as she finishes putting her second pot of coffee on when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Would you get that?” She asks. 

“Yeah, sure,” Ben says, getting up from where he’s been channel surfing on the couch. 

Rey doesn’t have time to say anything else as she’s grabbed from behind, her mouth taped shut and arms pinned to her sides. 

“Naughty angel,” says one of her captors, Uriel, if she remembers correctly. She doesn’t look any different from the last time Rey saw her, which was the third day of creation. 

Ben is talking to someone on the other side of the door, and all Rey can do is scream through the tape on her lips. 

“BN!” She shouts. 

It’s enough to get Ben’s attention away from the door. 

“No! Rey!” He shouts, sprinting towards the kitchen. Of course, that’s when a brick sails through the air and clocks him in the back of the head. He hits the ground face first, and Rey can only shout more as she’s dragged out the back door with tears in her eyes. 

* * *

Rey hasn’t been to Heaven in a very long time. Well, there was that brief moment where she was discorporated, but she jumped back onto the earthly realm before anyone would notice she’d even been there. She saw but didn’t really notice just how devoid of life it has become. Long ago there were angels roaming every corner of the place, sitting on clouds and playing lyres, looking down on God’s brand new creation with awe and excitement. Now it’s sterile, closed off, hollow and unfriendly like an abandoned office with a fresh coat of paint and the only angels she sees are Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon. 

“Rey, was it?” Gabriel says. 

“Yef,” Rey says through the tape. 

Gabriel rolls his violet eyes, his sickly sweet smile slipping off his lips. “Someone get the tape off her.” 

Uriel marches over and rips the tape off her mouth with more force than necessary. Rey hisses, working her jaw and rubbing her lips together, trying to make sure Uriel didn’t take part of her lip with the tape. 

“So,” says Gabriel, “someone’s been busy. Not exactly the kind of busy we hope for up here, though.” 

Rey scowls. 

“Right then, let’s get this over then, shall we?” He signals for someone to Rey’s left, and a demon, one she’s never seen before, makes his way to the circle between Rey and the archangels. In his hands is a small box, and when he opens it a tornado of fire springs to life in the circle.

“Hellfire?” Rey asks. 

“A fitting end for traitors who consort with demons,” says Uriel as she undoes the bonds around Rey’s arms and legs. 

They stand in silence for a moment, and Rey briefly considers pleading for her life. 

“Well…” Gabriel rolls his wrist. 

“Well, what?” Rey repeats, refusing to move. 

“Get in the fire,” says Gabriel. 

“You expect me to just walk into that? Are you serious?” 

“Duh,” says Gabriel. 

“Why in the Hell would I do that?” 

“Because you’re a filthy traitor who ruined our plans for the apocalypse. Obviously. Didn’t think I had to spell it out for you.” 

“Ruined your plans? We saved the earth! We saved the lives of every single human. We did a good thing!” 

“No, you ruined it. 6000 years of preparation for the Great War and what did you do? You went directly against the Almighty. And what’s worse, you did it with a - a demon,” he gags a little on the last bit. 

Age-old anger that’s been slowly simmering in Rey’s blood starts to boil. All these years she’s been doing what Heaven’s asked. All these years she’s been doing what she thought was the right thing. She’s waited patiently for some acknowledgment or recognition or anything other than an order. And now that she finally has some acknowledgment, it's her execution. 

“You can’t know that. Did God actually tell you what her plan was?” 

“It’s the Great Plan, Rey. It’s as it was written. We were supposed to win the war and you blew it for us.” 

“Well maybe it was written wrong or maybe it was bullshit all along. You’d rather have an outcome where billions of people - billions of humans we’re supposed to be protecting and guiding - dying? Are you serious? Who do you think you are?” 

“I’m the archangel fucking Gabriel, sunshine, that’s who I am. No get in the fire or I’ll throw you in myself.” 

Rey refuses to cry in front of these assholes. She wants to, but only because she’s so mad. Maybe it’s a blessing that she finally gets to see Heaven as they truly are before her death, so she won’t feel sorry for herself. She doesn’t regret trying to save the world, she only regrets being so loyal to these pricks and thinking they ever cared. 

“May God forgive you,” Rey snarls, walking towards the flame. It’s hot, unbelievably hot, especially for a being that doesn't feel temperature, and it stings like a sunburn on her skin. If there’s any justice as all, her death will be avenged. 

Rey steps into the flame. 

The fire dances up her body, prickle sharp like needles as it crawls up her bones. But there is no pain. It’s not like any broken bone or injury she’s ever felt, because it’s not like an injury at all. 

“Wh-what’s happening?” Uriel asks. 

Rey opens her eyes. She shouldn’t be able to do that. She shouldn’t be able to see anything right now. She’s no expert, but it’s supposed to be instant annihilation, but here she is, unannihilated. She looks down at her hands and the flame that twirls around her digits. The initial sting is gone and all that’s left is a pleasant warmth, like a good whiskey. 

“She hasn’t fallen?” Sandalphon asks. 

Gabriel shakes his head. 

Rey smiles, breathing in the flames. They flow down her throat like air. She feels stronger than she has in years. Marching forward with purpose, she walks out of the flame, coming to meet the archangels on the other side. They back away, like frightened children. 

“You shouldn’t be so sure you know everything, archangel fucking Gabriel,” she says. 

Gabriel swallows, a single bead of sweat flowing down the side of his face. 

“I’m going home, now, to that filthy demon I’ve been _consorting _with. I strongly suggest you don’t bother me anymore. And if I were you, I’d do a bit of soul searching.” 

The archangels nod. 

High on the exhilaration of still being fucking alive, Rey carries herself to the elevator with her head held high. By the time she reaches the ground floor the shock has worn off and the reality of what’s happened hits her like a ton of bricks. She hits her knees, not noticing that the elevator is still going down. _ She’s not dead_! Holy fucking shit, she’s not dead! She has no idea how she’s not dead, but she isn’t! 

The elevator ding snaps her out of her shock long enough to pick herself up off the floor, only to be greeted by a very wet and very happy Ben. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Ben! You’re alive!” 

He tosses a damp towel over his shoulder, scattering the frightened crowd of demons behind him and charges into the elevator, lifting her up and spinning her in his arms as the elevator doors shut and take them both back up to Earth. 

“How the hell are you alive?” Rey asks, tangling her fingers in his wet hair. 

“I don’t know!” He shouts. “How the hell are you alive?” 

“No idea!” She says laughing. 

He holds her close, soaking her shirt through as he does, but Rey can’t be bothered to care. He’s alive and so is she and the world will keep spinning and everything is going to be okay. 

“Let’s get lunch,” she says, “let’s celebrate!” 

“Anything you want, Rey,” Ben says, carrying her in his arms the whole way out of Heaven and Hell’s joint office and down the street here he only sets her down because she wants to hold his hand. 

As the two embark on the first of many new journeys together, this one starting in the dining room of the Ritz, a funny little thing happens. It’s one of those universal constants that happens no matter the time, no matter the cause when an angel and a demon manage to witness the Not End of the World. As a pair of angels celebrate their victory, the world, and each other, a nightingale sings in Barkely square. 

And no one will notice, of course, but it’s there, all the same. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 43 You’ll never guess by who. [return to text]  
44 You know the ones. [return to text]  
45 God didn’t exactly plan for an angel and a demon to fall in love, if that’s what you’re thinking, but given that they are the only two beings who could really understand each other and that familiarity either breeds contempt of it’s opposite, an educated guess could have been easily made. [return to text]  
\-----  
Hey guys! Thank you for sticking through this with me! If you liked the fic, please leave a comment and/or a kudo. I had a lot of fun playing with two of my favorite fandoms through this fic and I hope you had fun reading it, too. Hopefully some of my lame jokes were funny.  
And, speaking of lame jokes, the actual playlist is [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6GFqzRGtPbOy4oPfICgeWo) or in chapters one and three. (If you haven't clicked the links, you really should. They're not all the same because I really couldn't help myself.)


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